Jake Sully: First Light
by RyooT
Summary: This story chronicles the two years in Jake Sully's life before he leaves Earth for Pandora. It begins with his last mission as a Marine, his injury and subsequent struggle to redefine himself and find a new purpose in life.
1. Synopsis

**Jake Sully: First Light**

This Avatar fan fiction story is based in part on characters of James Cameron's Avatar and is therefore entirely non-commercial.  
The characters and scenes as they appear in the movie and other media by 20th Century Fox are copyright of Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation; "JAMES CAMERON'S Avatar" is a trademark of Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation.

Bring Me To Life by Evanescence (A. Lee, B. Moody, D. Hodges)

Jake Sully is a tenacious kind of guy. He is an adrenaline junkie and thoroughly physical; for him, the tougher, faster and more dangerous a challenge, the better. As a professional soldier, member of an elite squad of Marines, he believes that there isn't a test too hard for him to master. For Jake being second is simply not good enough.

But then he becomes a first he never wanted to be—the first casualty in a new war. On the morning of the first day of his mission, he is severely injured. With his spine shattered, he loses the ability to stand up, let alone walk. Through weeks and months of agonizing physical pain and emotional ups and downs he seeks to redefine himself and find a way to become whole again. Deep inside he longs for a purpose, a fight worth fighting; but how do you make a difference, how you stand up for something if you can't stand up?


	2. Venezuela, Mon 1 Aug 2146

Venezuela, Mon 1 Aug 2146

_I became a marine for the hardship. I told myself I can pass any test a man can pass. All I ever wanted was a single thing worth fighting for…_

The U.S. Marine Corp's V-46 Osprey dropship passed high over the few remaining sections of forest sprawling about 25 clicks inland from the Urama oil pumping and distribution facility on Venezuela's Caribbean coastline. Not that you could call it rain forest any longer. Though at times it would rain heavily here, the weather patterns were so distorted that the region alternated between flooding and prolonged droughts, the former washing the topsoil into the sea, the latter starving the vegetation of the necessary water and humidity to sustain a jungle ecosystem. At least according to the textbooks of what a jungle ecosystem was supposed to look like and how it was supposed to work—but the trees were still here—in patches anyway and though many of them were dying, these would provide enough cover for the operation.

The Venezuelan government had been more than obtuse in its denial to share access to one of the last remaining significant oil reserves Earth had to offer. Not that the fate of the trees—or even the oil—mattered much to Jake Sully. He had his orders. Insert into the forest behind the distribution facility with his recon marine squad and take and secure the facility, while other troops were heading into the capital to do whatever they were supposed to do. It hadn't part of his briefing, but whatever it was, it was for the sake of securing access to the scarce energy resources.

The facility they were heading towards was fully automated with just a small number of technical maintenance staff. That was why only a small special-ops combat squad was required for this particular task. They had already dropped two squads near other strategic targets further west along the coast.

"100 clicks to drop zone." Jake heard the pilot through his helmet com system. He was standing in line, the fourth and last of his team to drop into the moonless night once the command was given. The team displayed intense focus and concentration of the kind that came with being a few minutes away from a high-altitude, low opening jump. Jake had performed the maneuver countless times, in training, in simulations as well as in action so he felt no particular trepidation about this assignment. Corporal Jake Sully was a consummate professional, and though he was safety conscious he felt elated about the jump.

Jake replayed the jump in his head: 5000 meters of free fall, the black canopy of the ram-air paraglider to be deployed at the last possible moment to prevent a rather unpleasant and needlessly fatal impact with Mother Earth. Jake raised the left corner of his mouth in that boyish half-grin of his at the thought. _Mother Earth, my ass_.

"Sixty seconds."

Jake performed final checks on his equipment, harness, pack, assault rifle and side arm and waited for his turn.

"Go, go, go …"

Flying—it was almost like flying, Jake thought. Every jump he felt nothing short of euphoric during the all-too-brief moments of weightlessness. Jake checked the time and gauge information relayed by his helmet's heads-up display to determine the moment at which to deploy the canopy. As the ground rushed up towards him, he distinguished shapes, presumably trees mostly. As he activated the canopy he kept monitoring the position of the other three marines that had jumped ahead of him. The weather conditions weren't ideal and his HUD relayed the changing directions and speeds of the wind gusts that buffeted his opening canopy. Then Jake's canopy unfolded and he felt the jerking motion as his descent was slowed abruptly. His HUD relayed the locations of several possible landing spots and Jake was about to adjust his direction when suddenly, the darkness around him exploded into blindingly bright flares of anti-aircraft gun fire. It came at him at a relatively low angle from the computer-controlled automated artillery position they had been briefed on, closer to the coast, near the facility they were targeting.

That had definitely been way too close for comfort. Another round tore up the air around him and ripped through his canopy. Jake started to plunge. _I'm dead._ He was already too low, too close, way too close to the crown of the trees at this point to release the damaged canopy and deploy the reserve in order to regain any measure of control. Fear suddenly constricted his throat. The torn canopy turned his movement into a wild tumble. A strong wind gust caught him and flipped him up over the canopy just as the fabric and cord snagged the first branches and turned his fall into a 360 degrees loop, like a mad roller coaster—he swung backwards and now down, accelerated even more by the centripetal force and then his back hit the trunk of a tree and the world went black.

Jake came to—he was barely aware of his surroundings at first, but slowly consciousness seeped back in. There was pain, but he seemed to be upright. Jake groaned. He tried to open his eyes to get a bearing on where he was. He lifted his right hand and moved up his helmet visor to get a better view. A terrible burning sensation spread from around his shoulder blades and then – there was nothing.

After a few minutes, or it may as well have been a few hours Jake opened his eyes again. The first light was just creeping through the trees and he could tell that his first assessment had been correct. He was indeed upright. He slowly lifted his head and saw the cords of the chute snagged tightly around the branches above him. Looking directly down was more challenging at first. He stretched his neck forward and another agonizing wave of pain washed through him. His breath came in short raspy gasps.

Then his chin connected with the top of his chest and he could see down. In the gray twilight he estimated that his feet were about four meters above ground. He stared at his boots. At first he couldn't make sense of the images his eyes were relaying and the sensory input his brain was desperately trying to process. He could see his feet just fine—but he couldn't feel them. Even the haze of pain only extended to somewhere below his navel.

Jake closed his eyes. "Fucking marvelous," he muttered under his breath as another wave of pain cut it short. He tried to concentrate on his breathing. After a while he regained some control and opened his eyes again. "Get a grip soldier!" He ordered himself. "Assess your situation." He looked at his feet again and tried to move them. The visual feedback only confirmed what he had already assumed. He was paralyzed. For a few agonizing moments he let that realization sink in, but then other thoughts pushed to the front of his mind. I_t's probably just spinal bruising or maybe a clean break._ He knew he was rationalizing. _That's not so bad. A few weeks of being laid up at most and I will be as good as new_.

He needed to contact his squad and call for extraction. The op order had instructed com silence until the facility had been secured. If he broke com silence now he might endanger the mission. Jake raised his hand and lowered the visor again to access the HUD. The heads-up display in the visor of his helmet was in self-test mode, only giving basic information like the date and time of day, and it seemed to be stuck. The input sensor that would interpret his eye movements and blinks was unresponsive. With the HUD stuck in self-test, his emergency locator beacon was set to passive mode. Unless someone came by sweeping, he wouldn't be located.

He was also wearing a microphone and transmitter around his neck, but this was a short range com unit which would only allow him to talk to his squad and was limited to a 100 meter radius to avoid detection. He was definitely no longer within the 100 meter range of his team. He decided against trying to raise the squad. He was wary of giving the frequency and his position away even on the off chance that anyone was actually in listening range. His long range radio was in his pack. He would have to wait at least until midday to use that or he might bring down hostiles on himself and or his squad.

Jake tried to orient himself in his surroundings once more. Other than more trees, there was nothing else to be seen. The sun was clearing the horizon now and the temperature was definitely on the rise. This was the dry season and at least he was shielded by the foliage somewhat. Direct sun exposure would have made his situation much worse. He was facing away from the trunk of the tree from which he was suspended. There were no further branches between him and the ground and he could see gnarled and twisted roots spreading out from the tree on the ground below.

The pain was still excruciating, barely tolerable. He remembered the pain killers in the emergency med-kit that was part of his pack and he gingerly felt behind his back to look for it. It wasn't there. The impact had dislodged it. He focused on the ground below again and saw it lying pretty much directly underneath in between the jumble of roots.

Jake sighed. He needed a plan. His radio and med kit, water and emergency rations were on the ground, he was strapped into his parachute harness four meters above. The trunk was about two meters behind his back and the branches that the ropes had snagged were at least three meters above—and he was paralyzed, which most likely meant he had broken his back. The pain in his upper body didn't bode well neither, add some broken ribs to the mix at least. He hoped that he wasn't bleeding internally to any significant degree. He still felt warm, at least he seemed to have enough of a grip to not go into shock so far. That was a small miracle on its own, but it also meant that through the agonizing haze of pain, at best, he could hope to use the strength of his arms to shift himself into any other position.

_Up, down or sideways?_ There weren't any other options. Jake tried to lift his left arm. So far he'd only been using his right. He felt a tingling sensation in his hand and forearm and gasped reflexively at the pain from his shoulder, but his left arm didn't lift.

"Ok then, make that a dislocated shoulder on the left." He stated to himself matter-of-factly like he was a medic triaging somebody else. He used his right hand to feel the end of his left clavicle and he could clearly feel he gap indicating the humerus was out of place—luckily not by much. He grabbed his left arm with his right hand just above the biceps and pushed hard up and backwards. A searing pain shot through his shoulder and down the length of his left arm and he tried to stifle the scream, but at least he felt the bone move back into position accompanied by a sickening 'shlick' sound as if pulling something out of mud. Sweat was running down his forehead and stinging his eyes and he felt like he was going to throw up. He fought the urge. He didn't want to throw up with his helmet on, but he didn't want to lose the helmet, neither. After a while, the feeling of nausea subsided and he tried moving his left arm again.

"Yeah, Jake one, dislocated shoulder nil!" He tried to cheer himself on. It was still excruciatingly painful, but at least this time he was able to lift his arm—somewhat at least. Oh well, forget about pulling his body weight up towards the branches that held the snagged lines.

So that left down and sideways. Jake discarded the idea of down for the moment and tried to turn his head far enough to get a good look at the trunk. The helmet limited his peripheral vision and with the sensor unresponsive he couldn't use the built in cam to shift his field of vision on the HUD. He tried to raise the visor again, but another wave of pain rolled through him and he felt exhausted. "Rest up and save your strength, soldier," his drill sergeant-self admonished. Jake let his head lean back and blacked out.

When he regained consciousness the time display on his HUD showed 0733. It was light now, He'd been hanging here for almost two hours already—at least he was still alive. He made another attempt at lifting the visor and this time it worked. _Time to gather some more intel_. So upward was out of the question, but Jake hadn't given up on the sideways option yet. He needed to see what the trunk behind looked like. With his right hand he grabbed the ropes above his left shoulder as high as he could reach and pulled himself up with all the strength he could muster—since he figured he'd only have one shot at this anyway. It worked. He was able to lift himself just enough to affect a small degree of rotation. The pain screamed to life again but he managed to get enough of a look at the trunk to see that it was dishearteningly smooth except for a small number of knobby protrusions that would give him absolutely no purchase, at least not in his current state. His strength was evaporating fast and just before he was again overpowered by the pain he noticed the chafe marks where he had slammed against the trunk and right in the middle where his back made contact with the surface he saw the remnant of a smallish branch, no larger in diameter than a his fist and extending no more than two inches above the surface of the trunk. Then the world turned dark again.

Jake came to again, dizzy and disoriented almost like he was drunk. He tried to shake his head to clear it, but that simply triggered another wave of pain and nausea. "Wow, let's not try this again." He would need some water soon. He rested some more with his eyes closed and considered his situation again. Suspended from a tree, four meters above ground, with a malfunctioning HUD, useless short-range com unit, water, med-kit, long range radio on the ground below him, a working right arm, a partially working left arm, most likely a broken back and some broken ribs and very definitely—at least at this point in time—paralyzed. He thought of the piece of protruding branch. He took off his right glove, carefully tucking it into the webbing in front of his chest to make sure he didn't drop it and gingerly felt up the middle of his back from the top of his sacrum. He felt the fabric of his jump suit against his hand, but he definitely did not feel his hand against his pelvis or his lower back. He felt the bottom edge of the integrated Kevlar and carbon fiber shell that was supposed to protect his back from injury. At around navel height he felt the shell shattered into smaller fragments for about an inch and a half upward and he could clearly feel a distinct depression in his back. Cold sweat broke out on his face and he felt himself shiver for a moment. "Not good," Jake gasped, "not good at all." All of a sudden a surge of despair settled like ice in his chest as the magnitude of his injury began to dawn on him. This wasn't a clean break in any respect. He let himself go limp and tried to block out any thoughts.

After what seemed like a small eternity the wave of self-pity was slowly replaced by a small flicker of new resolve. He looked at his hand to check for blood. There wasn't any. At least he didn't seem to be bleeding externally, which might just attract all kind of unwanted insect life. There weren't any large animals around to be concerned about, but insects could cause all kinds of nasty complications nonetheless. He wasn't done yet. He had to admit to himself though that his odds weren't looking too good at the moment. "I'm taking bets against Jake Sully," he mumbled to himself. "10:1 that he'll get out of here alive, 50:1 that he'll walk again and for the real long shot 100:1 that he'll jump again."

Ok, so up and sideways were out—that left one simple option—down. No, two he corrected himself, he could just continue to hang here and hope for the remote possibility that someone was out looking for him and would find him in time. He wasn't quite sure what _in time_ meant, but after all that was only a remote chance if any. However way he looked at the situation he still had to get down on the ground and call in a Code Red—an emergency extraction—or at least activate the active emergency locator beacon on the long range radio if nothing else. Jake checked the time, it was 10:51. Geez, he'd been unconscious or simply out of sorts for a pretty long time.

_Down it is then_—that was actually relatively easy to accomplish. All it took was to release the buckles on the harness that connected the ropes of the canopy. The only problem was that four meters was quite a long distance and he'd have no way of controlling that he stayed upright. The last thing he wanted was to topple over and land on his head. On the other hand that would probably kill him outright—maybe that would be better after all…

"Hell no! Stay positive!" He tried to speak forcefully to himself but his voice was no more than a rasping whisper at this point. "Here we go." He retrieved his glove and put it back on. He closed the visor and then he released both buckles simultaneously. It was less than a second till he hit the ground, but time distorted and to Jake it felt much longer. He stayed upright and his legs connected with the ground first, buckling under him. He heard the sound of his bones breaking, but couldn't tell which and only a fraction of a second later his entire upper body was flooded by an intense and overwhelming wave of pain; Jake lost consciousness.

He was lying on his back. Other than that proprioception denied any useful information whatsoever. The pain was there but if was sort of dull at the moment, his endorphins were certainly working overtime. Jake slowly opened his eyes. It took him a while to focus but eventually he could read the time displayed on his HUD: 12:26—he'd been out for over an hour. _At least I am still alive_. Jake closed his eyes and started repeating his old mantra in his head over and over. _I can pass any test. I can pass any test. I can pass any test_… For another half an hour or so he just lay there gathering his strength physically and mentally before he made any attempt to open his eyes again and assess his new situation. He slowly lifted the right hand to open the visor.

He was lying flat on his back staring up at the tree and the dangling ropes of his paraglider. _Think, think, think_, his mind was reeling. His breath came in short agonizing gasps, the pain surged back to intense and nearly unbearable. He felt on the verge of blacking out again. "No, nooooo!" He was struggling against the blackness, he needed to keep it together long enough to activate the beacon. A thought pushed to the forefront of his consciousness—in his mind he saw a vivid picture of his twin brother. "You got what's coming to you," Tom said. "That's what you get for being a trigger-happy jackass; instead of fighting to save our planet you're enforcing its destruction." Jake opened his eyes, trying to chase the unwelcome image from his mind. Sure, Tom had no time for Jake's chosen profession, but at this point in time the angry words of his brother wouldn't help him one bit. But in a strange way they did—they kindled his own anger. Anger at his brother for not understanding him, anger for not getting any support let alone acceptance for the path he had chosen. It was easy for Tom, the academic, to assume the moral high ground. The anger burned through the pain and Jake found another spark of strength within himself. _I'll show you that I am stronger than you._

"Sit rep!" Jake spoke to himself again. He raised his head off the ground to check in which position he had landed. Even this small head movement caused another wave of nausea. He managed to slide his right forearm under his head so that he could maintain his elevated head, screwed his eyes shut for a moment and fought against the nausea and pain. If he threw up now, he probably wouldn't be able to shift himself onto his side to prevent himself from choking. He tried to get his breathing under control. Taking deep breaths was out of the question, but after a while the sensation tapered off. Opening his eyes he saw that his right leg was more or less straight, but bent at an unnatural angle just above the edge of his boot, while his left leg was bent at the knee and resting underneath the right with far too much rotation in the knee joint. "Fucking marvelous," he mumbled. "Like the day couldn't get any worse."

He remembered the location of his pack—above his head and slightly off to the right. He carefully slid his arm out from underneath his head and reached for the pack. For once he was lucky. His fingers made contact with a strap and he pulled the pack towards him. Even though it was just a minor movement it exhausted him utterly. "Don't give up now," he cheered himself on. The radio was in a side pouch and he managed to pull it free. He couldn't lift it in front of his face to try to make direct radio contact but under his gloved fingers he was able to feel the inset button that would activate the emergency beacon. He pressed down hard on it and felt it lock in place then darkness enveloped him again.

"Jake, Jake …" Someone was calling him from far way. He was vaguely aware of movement around him. "Jake, come on man, give me a sign." He felt a hand pressed into his neck feeling for a pulse, but he was too tired to respond. He tried opening his eyes, but they wouldn't comply. "Jake, for fuck's sake, just give me something…"

Jake's mouth contorted into a half grin—then he heard a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness, Jake. We'll get you out of here. Time to save your sorry ass."

Jake struggled against the weight of his eye lids, eventually they parted. His eyes were unfocused, but after a moment he was able to make out the shape bent over and working on him as another person. In a voice that was barely more than a faint whisper he said "What took you so long? Stopped for directions?"

The medic let out a surprised laugh "You take it easy now, son. We'll take good care of you. Quite a mess you got yourself into here," but Jake had already slipped back into unconsciousness.


	3. Washington, DC, Tue 9 Aug 2146

Walter Reed Military Hospital, Washington, DC, Tue 9 Aug 2146

The sound of the heart rate monitor was the first thing that registered in Jake's mind. Carefully he opened his eyes, the light seemed too bright, but after a few moments he'd gotten used to it and opened them fully. He was lying flat on his back. Hospital, he was in a hospital. _How_, _why, when? _

Suddenly memories started surging back. The jump, the tree, the pain, the paralysis. Unbidden tears started flooding Jake's eyes and he lifted his right hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. He heard the door open and the footsteps of someone walking into the room on soft soles. The monitoring station must have alerted someone to the fact that he was awake. Before Jake was able to wipe off the tears with the back of his hand, a nurse stepped into his field of vision. She was a heavyset black woman maybe in her early fifties. "Hello, good morning sunshine, nice of you to join us on this glorious morning."

Her mood was cheerful and uplifting. Jake managed the semblance of a smile. She took a tissue from somewhere off to the side of his head and wiped away the rest of Jake's tears.

"Now, now—it's not as bad as it seems."

Jake didn't quite share the same optimistic assessment, but he had to concede that he felt barely any pain at the moment although feeling still only seemed to emanate from the upper half of his body.

The nurse carried on. "My name is Janice. I'm sure we'll get to know each other pretty well. I think you'll be here for a while longer".

"How long have I been here?" Jake's voice was raspy and his throat was dry.

"Bit over a week—would you like some water? Let's see if you can swallow, but try small sips at first, one at a time" She brought a container from a somewhere outside his field of vision that reminded Jake of a baby's feeding bottle.

"You got to be joking" he rasped "you're gonna feed me like a baby?"

"No honey, you're gonna feed yourself. Your arms and hands are working just fine. It's only that I can't raise you up yet and I don't want you to splash yourself full of water. Not right now anyway, 'cause otherwise I need to change you and the Doc is about to pop in any minute now" she handed Jake the bottle.

Jake held the feeding bottle up so that he could see it. "I thought I had outgrown this stage, but oh well, here we go" He put the bottle to his mouth and took some tentative sips. Small ones, like there was anything else to be gotten from a baby's bottle. It tasted somewhat bitter. "What's in this, painkillers?"

"No, honey, just some extra electrolytes. I know the taste's a bit revolting, but it's good for you." She patted his cheek. She was definitely way too maternal for Jake's liking, but then again it also felt good to be cared for.

"Is this standard hospital issue or your own idea?" Jake asked, holding the bottle up between them.

She smiled down at him "my own, from years of experience".

"So I've been here a week—what's happened to me here since I arrived?"

"The Doc will explain all this to you just now. I'll check back on you again later." She smiled down on him once more. "Just don't try anything brave." Then she turned on her heels and walked away from his side.

Jake raised his head and let his gaze follow her on her way to the door. He let his head rest back and took another sip from the bottle she'd left him with. Then he turned his head to the right. There was a table by the bedside and he managed to set the bottle on top of it. He turned his head to the left. No IV lines in the crook of his elbow, but he noticed the lines above his left clavicle. He raised his left hand up to his face and then proceeded to lift his elbow to check the rotation in his left shoulder. It was still sore, but nowhere near as painful as he remembered. He slid his left hand and forearm under his head to raise it without having to rely on his neck muscles to do the work.

He looked towards his feet—still no feeling, let alone movement. His legs were elevated, but they were covered by a loose sheet. He contemplated pulling the sheet off, but decided to wait for the arrival of the doctor. He stuck his hand under the sheet and felt his sternum and the lower end of his rib cage. _So far, so good._ His fingers moved tentatively towards his navel. Below the navel the sensation was less pronounced but seemed to extend pretty much all the way down to his groin in the middle of his body. He moved his hand left and right. The border of sensation and non-sensation wasn't a straight line but pulled up over his hips. He also had no sensation in the upper thighs as far as he could reach. Tears sprang up in his eyes again. He pulled both hands over his face and sobbed. He'd been here for a week already and he was certain that whatever procedures were necessary to repair spinal damage needed to be affected as soon as possible after the injury. He realized that he had firmly believed that by the time he'd wake up in hospital at least some of the sensation would have returned. _They fix spinals all the time._

After a few minutes the stream of tears subsided and he wiped his nose on the back of his hand again.

The door opened and another woman, maybe in her mid-forties, walked into the room. She stepped up to the bed and Jake saw that she was wearing a uniform with Captain's insignia under her open lab coat. He saluted halfheartedly and then self-consciously wiped away the traces the tears had left on his face.

"At ease, Corporal."

"Yes, ma'am," his voice was still a bit shaky. Jake regarded her for a moment but wasn't sure what else to say. There were so many questions he needed an answer for, but he couldn't find the words to say them out loud. He realized he was afraid of what the answers might be.

"I'm Doctor Lassiter, your neurologist" She smiled encouragingly. "I would like to have a chat. Do you feel up to it?"

He didn't, really, but he answered "yes, ma'am," anyway.

"Good. You've been with us for eight days and for that period we have kept you in an induced coma. The degree and multitude of your injuries is such that we decided to give your body some time to heal before tapering off the medication. Now I think you're in a position to tolerate the pain with a less potent cocktail of sedatives. Am I correct?"

Jake simply nodded. All he felt at this point was a noticeable but nonetheless tolerable amount of dull pain, mostly in his chest.

"How is the pain? Can you describe it to me?"

"It's dull—manageable."

"That sounds promising. You are still receiving pseudo-morphine through your IV line and the nurse will show you later how you can adjust the dosage yourself. Do you remember what happened?"

"I remember bits and pieces." He paused for a moment. "Is this for the official report?"

She smiled and pulled a chair up next to his bed. She didn't sit down, however, just placed it with the backrest facing his bed and leaned against it, folding her arms across her chest. "No, this is not for the official report. I'd just like to fill in some gaps on my side."

Jake sighed. "I was on a high-altitude insertion. I got shot at and one round ripped up my canopy. I remember being flipped up over the canopy. That must have been when it caught the branch. I was flung backwards and crashed into the trunk of the tree."

"Did you fall to the ground?"

"No I was suspended about four meters above ground." Jake inhaled deeply and winced when his broken ribs didn't take too kindly to the added expansion of his lungs.

"And then? The medics reported they found you on the ground."

"I must have hung there for a couple of hours. Time is a bit of a blur and I was in and out of consciousness. My pack had been dislodged and my HUD wasn't functioning. So I figured I needed to get down on the ground to activate the beacon on the radio if I ever wanted to be found." He paused and closed his eyes tightly fighting back the emotions that came with the recollection. A single tear escaped from his eyes. Jake wiped it away angrily then carried on. "So I released the clips. I lost consciousness when I hit the ground, but I came to eventually and was able to activate the beacon."

"You are one very lucky man to be alive, Jake Sully."

Jake's voice was no more than a whisper. "I don't feel so lucky now."

"I understand. At any point in time were you aware of your injuries?"

The tone of his voice changed and became hard and cold. "Don't patronize me, Doctor. If you are afraid to break the news to me, don't bother. Yes, I knew from the first time I came around that I had broken my back and that I am fucking paralyzed. Add to that some broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder and after I hit the ground at least a broken leg and some torn ligaments in the other. How am I doing Doc?"

Dr. Lassiter raised one of her eyebrows. "I'm impressed. That's a pretty accurate assessment I must say."

"I'm a Marine, doctor. Whatever you may think, I'm not some stupid, dumb-wit infantry grunt."

"I didn't think any of that … Okay, let's cut to the chase." She pushed away from the chair and pulled back the sheet that was covering Jake's body. "There's a lot of fight left in you. That's good because you're going to need it."

Jake slid his arm under his head again so that he had a better view of his legs. His lips compressed to a thin line of grim resolve. His left leg was in a brace extending from his ankle to the middle of his thigh. The right was bare, but he could see surgical sutures on the inside of his leg.

"Broken right tibia and fibula, surgically aligned and pinned. Left leg—torn exterior and cruciate ligaments as well as a torn meniscus, no surgical intervention on the left, yet."

Jake wanted to know what that meant, but even more he needed to get to the issue of his paralysis. He decided to ask questions about the knee later.

She pulled the sheet back over his legs. "Put your head back. It's better if you don't strain your neck at this point. So now let's talk about what's wrong with your back." She walked up to the top end of his bed and keyed something into the monitoring system. A translucent three dimensional projection appeared in the air above Jake. "This is a before image. I mean this is what your spinal column looked like when you arrived."

Jake stared at the image. It showed a cranium, spinal column, rib cage and pelvis, the vertebrae labeled and shaded in sections of different colors. The white band inside the vertebrae he recognized as the spinal cord inside the spinal canal.

Dr. Lassiter pointed to the top section "C1 to C6, the cervical spine. Just some minor issues here—whiplash more or less, won't cause any lasting problems." She shifted her hand down indicating the middle section. "Here we got the thoracic vertebrae—as you can see five broken ribs, some fractured spinous processes and spinal bruising in this region. Again, nothing of any major concern until we get to here…" she paused.

Jake was mesmerized by what he saw—in the lumbar section, L2 was clearly shattered into several larger pieces and flattened but where L1 should have been, there was just a jumble of bone fragments, minced soft tissue and hollows. It looked like the vertebra had gone missing altogether—it didn't make sense to him.

Dr. Lassiter resumed her explanation "When I said this is how you looked when you arrived, that's actually not quite correct. This is what you looked like after we stretched you out again. When you arrived your lumbar spine was severely compressed. L3 was literally touching T12. Normally compression fractures from a height of four meters shouldn't be this severe, especially since your legs absorbed a lot of the energy. But from your account I gather that you were already paralyzed before you hit the ground. This injury was caused by the collision with the tree then and aggravated by the impact on the ground. It is still curious though, because you said you hit the tree squarely with your back and the lumbar spine would have been curved away from the trunk. I would have rather expected the fractures in the thoracic section to be more severe."

"There was a broken off branch" Jake shuddered involuntarily as he understood the amount of damage the protrusion had caused.

"Hmm. That would explain it. Long enough to pulp L1 and break L2, but not long enough to skewer you." She smiled.

"Yippy-i-fucking-yay. So what's the prognosis, Doc?"

She sighed "Okay. Let me show you this first." She made a sweeping gesture within the pickup range of the projector and the image changed slightly. "This is what we did."

She pointed at the lumbar section again, this time showing L1 and L2 restored, shaded in a metallic tint. "We cleaned out all the bone fragments and nonviable tissue. Then we replaced L1 and L2 with two custom titanium alloy vertebrae. These L1 and 2 are articulated meaning they are connected to each other yet movable, but L1 is fused with T12 and L2 with L3. That will help stabilize your back. Here is the crux of the issue. Your spinal cord was completely transected at the level of the L1 vertebrae and the nerve tissue was shredded in its range. The good news is that both peripheral nerves that emerge between T12 and L1 are intact, but all the nerves exiting below were transected as well. Because of the extent of the damage we couldn't reconnect them and even though we did standard treatment to prevent scarring and encourage re-growth you are missing a good two inches of your spinal cord and peripheral nerves in that area." She was silent for a moment. Jake regarded her warily. "Do you understand what this means?"

"Yes. I know it means I am paralyzed and I'm not going to walk anywhere soon." Angry. "But what I don't know is if I'm going to walk—" his voice broke "ever again."

She turned away from him and deactivated the projection. Then she turned back and regarded him for a moment. "Theoretically? – Yes. Practically? – Highly unlikely. Not unless you have a large amount of cash stashed away somewhere. Spinal re-growth treatment is very expensive and takes a very long time—average is about an inch per eight months and on top of that there are about twenty peripheral nerves to regrow and reconnect. But more importantly it's not covered under the military's medical benefits."

Jake turned his head away from her.

"Unfortunately this is where our employer screws us and shows us just how expendable we all are." She walked around the bed, pulled up another chair, again facing it backwards. She sat astride with the hands on top of the back rest and rested her chin on it. For the first time she was at eye level with Jake. "When I said earlier that you had a lot of fight left in you, I meant it. You will need it—but I also think that you are the kind of person who doesn't give up easily—the Marine Corps sent over your file." She sounded almost apologetic.

"So the paralysis as it is now, that's how it's going to be?"

"Yes. Your abdominals and back muscles will be weak initially but will recover and be mostly unaffected. It may not seem that way now, but the supplying nerves should resume normal function. If you're lucky you will experience some further sensory and/or motor improvement maybe as far as the front of your upper thighs, but that's it."

"How long till I can get out of this bed?"

"Hmm. It depends. It's only four days since the surgery on your spine. You will start some physio later today. But at this point in time it's more about maintaining your range of motion. The second scan I showed you earlier was from this morning, before you were awake. I think it safe now to elevate your upper body up to 20 degrees for today—over the next week we'll increase it gradually. In a week's time I expect that all the bone, soft tissue and ligaments will be sufficiently stable to allow you to sit up. Once your rib fractures are healed sufficiently you should start working out."

"I suppose the leg press will be off limits." Sarcastic.

She chuckled quietly "Not off limits, strictly speaking, but I'd call it a miracle if you can make it work."

"You are not very PC, you know? Where's your '_I'm so sorry for you and I'll do everything I can to make things right for you'_ act?

"Never worked for me and never will."

Jake started to like Dr. Lassiter. He liked her no-nonsense approach. He was sure he'd experience some periods of intense grief and denial in the time to come, but at least at this point in time dealing with hard facts seemed to be like a life raft he could cling to, to not allow himself to be drowned in a flood of depression and self-pity.

She carried on speaking. "You are going to have a tough time ahead of you, no doubt about it. Initially you will find it hard to maintain your balance when you sit up, but that will improve over time. I know you'll be reckless and try to sit up even though you're not supposed to, yet. Just be warned that if you try to sit up now it could cause a severe drop in blood pressure causing you to black out and fall out of bed. It would set you back weeks. I want you to take the initiative for your recovery, but give it another week, otherwise I'll have you put back under." The tone of her voice was teasing, but Jake understood the warning that was contained in the words.

"I'll try to heed your advice, then. Not that I feel I could accomplish much at this point anyway."

"You'd be surprised what people can do when they set their mind to it. You should know that better than anyone." She got up from the chair and walked to the other side of the bed, checking readouts on the status monitors. She seemed to be satisfied with whatever she saw and turned back to Jake, placing a hand on his forearm. "I _am _sorry that I can't give you your legs back, but I don't feel sorry _for _you because your own decisions brought you here and I respect your decisions. Just remember that the reason you are here is the culmination of all of _your_ decisions. It is _your_ path and _your_ choice where you go from here." Then she turned and walked toward the door.

"One more thing." Jake called after her.

She stopped and turned back.

"What about my knee?"

"We'll discuss that tomorrow. There is someone else here who would like to see you. I'll send the nurse in first, though to raise the bed. It'll make you feel a bit more dignified. Nothing worse than seeing visitors when you're flat on your back," and with that she walked out the door.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Where _am_ I going from here? _Jake felt utterly adrift. Any certainty that he had had about his life was lost and replaced with a great sense of emptiness. He acutely felt a loss and he realized it was not just the loss of his physical ability that he was mourning. More than that it was the loss of purpose and of his identity; of what it meant to be Jake Sully, marine corporal, outstanding marksman, special ops commando, recon expert, extreme sports and adrenaline junkie that now demanded redefinition. _Who am I?_

The door swung open and Janice walked in saving him from his thoughts and beginning self-incrimination.

"Hello, sunshine. The Doc says I can lift you up twenty degrees. Just tell me if you feel lightheaded, uncomfortable or pain at any point." She keyed something into the monitoring station and Jake felt the top half of the bed incline slowly and stop. Twenty degrees wasn't a whole lot, but it also didn't make him feel uncomfortable.

"This is okay for me, Janice, thanks".

Janice swung a touch-screen display unit into his reach. "Here is a control interface for you. Right now you're only given control over pitch—zero to twenty degrees and sedatives. You're currently receiving maximum dosage equaling the limit the Doc has set for you. The computer will dose you down gradually over a period of time, but you can increase the dosage again if it becomes too painful. However, every time you increase it you can only go back up to a max of ninety percent of your previous limit, you get it?"

Jake nodded.

"Good. If you feel that ninety percent is not enough or you need anything else, you can also call the nursing station through the control interface. Then we'll make a plan."

"Cool." Jake liked the feeling of being given back some control, however limited it might be. "The Doc said I have a visitor. Do you know who it is?"

"It's your brother. He's been waiting for about an hour already. He looks a lot like you"

Jake's expression fell. "We are twins."

"Oh, I didn't realize, I guess it's the hair." She paused and regarded Jake for a moment. "You don't seem particularly pleased that he's here."

"We don't get along and I don't particularly need a lecture in morality right now."

Janice seemed to be surprised. "That's unusual in twins, isn't it? What is he then, a priest?"

"No, he's a biologist, but sometimes I wonder where the difference is."

"Do you want me to send him away?"

Jake contemplated that for a moment "No, the fact he is here is somewhat of a surprise itself. Send him in. I'll get through it somehow. Nothing a man can't do if he sets his mind to it, isn't it?" he attempted a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"No there isn't" Janice said and walked out the door.

Jake closed his eyes. He hoped that Thomas Sully, PhD wouldn't embark on a lengthy diatribe about how humanity had raped and pillaged this planet and how Jake had played a significant part in it. Somehow their conversations always seemed to end up at that point. Jake felt diminished as he was, so what he wanted right now was no more than quiet acceptance of who he was, of who he had become. "Thanks, Dr. Lassiter," he whispered.

The door opened slowly and Tom stuck his head into the room. "May I come in?"

_Tentative, he's not sure how to handle the situation_. "Hey, Tom."

"They called me and told me you were injured. They said your injuries were severe, but they didn't tell me what's wrong. Are you going to be ok?" Tom walked slowly towards him.

"Pull up a chair." Jake didn't want his brother staring down at him. In fact, when Tom sat down next to his bed, leaning towards him with his elbows resting on his knees, Jake noticed that his own eye line was slightly above Tom's. _Good. Maybe I can keep him from being patronizing this way. _

"I'll be okay—even though it may depend on the definition of okay."

"What do you mean?"

"I am paralyzed."

Tom swallowed hard. "You mean as in you're not going to be walking again paralyzed?"

"That's what the word means, isn't it?"

"But they fix spines all the time, I'm sure it's just a matter of time…"

Jake cut him off, a noticeable edge in his voice. "No! It's not a matter of time, not unless you have a lot of money holed up somewhere and you felt generous enough to spend on me."

"You know I don't." Tom looked at the floor, pained, subdued.

Jake regarded him for a moment.

Tom looked up again. "What happened?"

"Jump gone wrong. I crashed into a tree. Broken spine and some other injuries."

"Technical failure?"

"No, I was shot down."

"Oh" He looked away again and started fidgeting with a loose piece of thread on his jacket. "Where?"

"In Venezuela."

"No I mean, where in your back ...?" Still tentative. "I haven't seen you move anything other than your head." Slight panic crept into his voice. "Is it you're neck? Can you move at all?"

"My neck is fine. Here," Jake lifted his hand and drew a line back and forth in the air across his navel "about here".

"I am sorry". Tom got up and walked to the window at the other end of the room, staring at the concrete and brick landscape outside. Without turning around he carried on speaking. "I got a new job—I was actually hoping to tell you under better circumstances." He turned around again but didn't walk back towards Jake. "I was hoping…" He lifted both hands, palms forward in a placatory gesture "that it would help somewhat bridge the gap between us." His hands dropped back down, defeated.

After another minute or so Jake broke the silence. "Please sit down again."

Tom did as asked, but kept avoiding direct eye contact.

Jake contemplated helping his brother out. Helping him to get through this awkward conversation, but then he decided against it. He didn't want to give Tom an easy way out. If Tom wanted to patch things up between them it would have to be his effort; Jake remained silent.

Tom finally looked up. "I have accepted a research mandate from RDA. I started the training program last year already and two years from now I will leave for Pandora."

"Good for you." Jake failed to keep the sarcastic tone out of his voice.

Tom shot a pained look at Jake. Then he looked down again.

"Where will you go when you get out of here?"

"Don't know. Haven't given it any thought, yet."

"You could stay with me – for the next two years that is."

Jake was about to refuse outright, but then he realized that his brother was still trying to reconcile. So instead he said, "I'll think about it."

"Good." Tom got up. "Sorry, Jake. I am really sorry for what has happened to you. I have to go now, I'm sorry." He was backing away towards the door.

"You are sorry an awful lot." Jake's lips compressed in a grim line and his eyes narrowed while he regarded his brother.

"I mean it—I'll be in touch." He reached the door, pulled it open and left with a haste that betrayed just how uncomfortable he felt.

Jake closed his eyes and tried to control the anger that had risen up in him. _I don't need your pity and I don't need your help_. He felt resentment towards Tom. He resented that Tom had been so uneasy just now; that Tom just wouldn't take him at face-value whatever the circumstances. He resented that Tom had been able to escape, to _walk_ out of the room, when all he had ever used his body for was to carry his head from one scientific conference to the next or to stand around labs all day long, staring through microscopes. He resented that Tom would go to Pandora, the magical place of their childhood dreams. Angry tears rose in his eyes again, he closed both hands into fists and slammed them into the mattress as hard as he could.

After a while, Dr. Lassiter's words came back to him._ Remember that the reason you are here is the culmination of all of _your_ decisions_. She was right. It wasn't Tom's fault that he was here and that he was unable to walk. He relaxed somewhat.

Jake felt tired. The whole episode with Tom had exhausted him and on top of that the medications probably made him even more drowsy. He had been at the receiving end of a morphine drip once before in his life, just about ten years earlier, before and after the surgery to fix a broken arm. He hadn't liked the feeling then and he didn't like it now. He reached for the control interface and dialed down the dosage. He'd rather feel a bit more pain than feeling drowsy all the time.

Jake noticed the phone option on the display. It also had a built in camera. He activated the phone. The camera light came on and his face appeared on the screen, a prompt for a number to be entered and a directory function. He looked at his image on the screen. He looked thinner than he remembered from the last time he'd looked into a mirror ten days ago. He was a bit pale, too, but maybe it was just the camera distorting the colors somewhat. Otherwise he looked like the Jake Sully he remembered. He noticed the stubble on his normally clean shaven face. Someone had obviously given him a shave the day before.

Overall he looked the same, and he was still the same and yet he was different; he felt sad and broken. He throat constricted and he swallowed hard. He watched his brows drawing together and tears appear in his eyes. He closed them and waited for the feeling to subside. After a while it did. When he opened his eyes again, the screen had gone black. He touched it and the picture resumed.

Jake sighed and entered his friend JJ's office number on the touchscreen keyboard. When JJ accepted the incoming call from Walter Reed, Jake's image was replaced by that of his friend.

"Captain Sharpe, Marine Corps Legal…" He began the standard sentence he used when answering the office phone, but then he recognized Jake on the other end. "Jake." His hand went to his mouth.

"Hi JJ" Jake's voice was a strained. "I guess you haven't heard, yet."

"No, I haven't. Shit—Jake, are you okay? They only take the serious cases to Walter Reed." The concern in JJ's voice was evident.

"No, I'm not okay and I won't be for a long time," he paused for a second, "or rather make that never."

JJ ran a hand over his shaved head. "What happened?"

"Lots of things, but the gist of it is that my spinal cord is severed and that I'm paralyzed." Jake closed his eyes for a moment.

"Jeez, Jake—fuck—that's…" He couldn't think of the right word.

Jake looked at the camera again. "Yes, it's bad."

"How bad?"

"First lumbar—below the navel, basically means no legs—no walking, no running, no snowboarding—ever." He sighed heavily.

"Can't they fix it over time?"

Jake shook his head. "They can technically, but it won't happen." Jake felt himself choke up again.

"Why not?"

"Not now, JJ" Jake's voice was horse. "I'll explain some other time." He heaved, but then managed to get his throat to relax.

"Okay. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Can you please send over some of my stuff from storage? T-shirts, shorts, sweaters, the cargo pants, boxers and—my Skechers?" Jake flinched when he mentioned the shoes.

"I could fly over and bring your stuff." JJ offered.

"No, JJ. Please don't come. Maybe in a couple of weeks. It's hard enough for me already to talk to you on the phone right now."

"I understand, but then let's keep talking on the phone at least. You can call me anytime—day or night."

"Thanks JJ."

"I'll send your things over tomorrow."

"Appreciated. Bye." Jake closed the feed and closed his eyes again. He couldn't remember if he had ever dreaded a phone call as much as the one he'd just made. After a few more minutes he fell asleep.

JJ sat at his desk with his head in his hands. After a while he sat up and stared at the screen in front of him. He knew he would have access to Jake's record at Walter Reed. He sighed then he connected to the Walter Reed mainframe and pulled up Jake's file. He read the time line first.

_Time of incident: 1 August 2146 approx. ZULU 0950 local 0520. Extraction call: ZULU 1655 local 1235. Extracted: ZULU 1734 local 1314; assessed severe/life-threatening; dest WRAMSC. TOA WRAMSC: ZULU 2156 local 1706 EDT._

So Jake's mission had been over before it had even really begun. JJ scrolled through pages of detailed medical assessments. He skipped over most of it, just picking up words here and there. _Severe spinal compression fractures,_ _induced coma, scheduled surgery 5 August 2146 0700 EDT_. Four days ago. He slowed down and scanned the surgery report. They had first pinned both bones in his lower right leg, then moved on to the back surgery. The words made JJ cringe as he read them. They had removed two vertebrae or whatever was left of them and replaced them with artificial ones, transplanted pieces of dura to recreate the fibrous sheath around the spinal cord, reattached nerves, muscles, ligaments and blood vessels wherever possible, but despite the fifteen hours of micro surgery it sounded like Jake had lost a whole section of nerve tissue from his spinal cord.

JJ leaned back and rubbed his eyes. _Fuck_. His best friend—paralyzed.

He scrolled further until he came to the prognosis. He scanned it until he found the words he was looking for: _Complete and permanent paralysis at L1 level due to transection of spinal cord and descending peripheral nerves. Iliohypogastric, ilioinguinal and genitofemoral nerves partially enervated from T12 on both sides._ He read on. There it was: _Treatment option:_ _Stem cell based spinal regrowth treatment—declined, beyond standard treatment protocol_.

JJ closed the file and leaned back in his chair pinching the bridge of his nose and muttered. "Jeez Jake, you of all people, how are you going to cope with life in a wheelchair?"


	4. Washington, DC, Mon 22 Aug 2146

Walter Reed Military Hospital, Washington, DC, Mon 22 Aug 2146

Today was a big day. Today he would get out of his bed for the first time. Jake looked forward to it as much as he dreaded the thought. Today Murray his physio therapist would take him to the gym instead of doing exercises with him in bed.

A week ago he had sat up for the first time. It wasn't really sitting though. He couldn't sit as such just pull himself up into a seated position with the help of the bar suspended over his bed. At the moment his stomach muscles and the muscles half way up his back were still paralyzed due to the bruising in his spine, but Dr. Lassiter had just given him the latest test results showing that the nerves had started to relay signals again. Now he needed to make his brain send the correct messages and his muscles to regain strength and respond in the way they used to.

It was almost like these parts of his body had been rebooted and now he needed to relearn all the motor skills that he had taken for granted for twenty seven years. As she had told him in the beginning, he couldn't hold his balance, in fact right now he couldn't even sit without any support because his back muscles wouldn't hold him up, but soon, soon, Jake told himself, he would be able to sit again. Once he could sit, he would be able to use the wheelchair.

The thought scared him, though. In his bed he felt safe, contained. While he was lying in his bed he didn't have to deal physically with the fact that he would never walk again. While he was still lying here it was just an abstract thought. Sure, he couldn't feel his legs, nor could he move them, but lying down it was a reality that could be ignored. Once he got out of his bed however, he would have to deal with it. It was unavoidable.

He checked the time. Ten minutes and Murray would walk through the door and confront him with the bleak reality of his situation.

He closed his eyes and like many times before in the last two weeks he made a list in his mind of all the things he used to enjoy that would now be beyond his reach. Running, snowboarding, kite boarding, surfing, riding his Harley, playing soccer and volleyball with his mates, the ninjutsu he used to practice and many other seemingly inconsequential things. He had made plans together with JJ to finally go snowboarding this winter. They had been talking about it for the last four years, as long as they had known each other. Jake had once hoped to become a professional snowboarder, but that had never materialized and now he couldn't even do it for fun anymore.

He thought about all his sports gear and his bike that he had in storage and at JJ's house. He would ask JJ to sell it all the next time he spoke to him. He didn't even want to see his Harley or the boards or rigs again. They were just too many painful reminders of who he used to be. He would call JJ after physio, he could probably use some moral support by then anyway.

The door opened and Murray walked into the room pushing a high-backed padded wheelchair. It almost looked like a dentist chair on wheels. Jake's heart just about jumped out of his chest.

"Hi Jake, how are you today? How's the pain?"

"Under control. Not so bad today."

"So are you up for this?" He stuck his hands into his pockets and kicked the wheelchair with his foot. He grinned encouragingly at Jake.

"To be really honest, I'm scared shitless."

"Just don't expect too much of yourself, yet. It's only been three weeks. You need to be patient. Your body will start responding when it's ready. You can probably look at sitting properly again in about five to six weeks."

Jake sighed. "I have to start somewhere. Okay, let's do this."

Murray pushed the wheelchair parallel to the bed, lowered the rail and raised the head end of the bed more until Jake was almost sitting upright. Then he stood on the other side of the chair so that it was in between them. "Right—lean towards me."

Jake pushed himself sideways until he felt like he was falling over. "I'm about to fall out of bed," he said with alarm.

"Don't worry Jake, I'll catch you." As soon as Jake had said it, Murray had caught him and used the momentum to lift him and pull him sideways into the chair. He took Jake's left leg that was still in the full length brace and released the knee joint. Then he put the leg on the slightly elevated leg rest. Jake took his other leg and pulled it over as well. The atrophy was not yet severe, but clearly noticeable. Murray took the blanket and handed it to Jake.

"Will the atrophy get worse?" Jake asked then draped the blanket over his legs.

"Yes, it will. You could lose more than half of the muscle mass in your legs." Murray pushed Jake out of the room.

"So what if I get my spine fixed. Will it come back?"

"Possibly, but to be honest most people never regain the full strength they had before the SCI."

"SCI?"

"Spinal cord injury."

"Ah."

Neither of the men said anything for a while. They took the elevator down two floors and entered the gym. Instead of staying in the open plan main area of the large gym, Murray took Jake to one of the private, windowless treatment rooms in the back. "I think we'll work in here today," he said.

Jake's expression was stony as he watched the other people working out. There were a few people in wheelchairs, but as far as Jake could see they were amputees.

"Are there any other people here like me?"

"There are two more SCIs at the moment, but they both came in after you and from what I hear, they will both be temporary paralysis cases. Permanent, complete paralysis is a pretty rare prognosis these days."

"Ain't I lucky." Jake sighed.

"You are lucky to be alive. I've never heard of anyone with injuries as severe as yours survive eight hours without any treatment."

"Was it that long until they got me out of there?"

"Yes and then they airlifted you straight here, but you were hanging on by the skin of your teeth. For three days they expected you to kick it. That's why you only had the surgery after five days. Otherwise the operation would have done you in— and even then it was still touch and go, but if they had waited longer the damage would have been even worse."

Murray took a remote and changed the tilt of the chair until Jake was almost lying flat again. Then he lowered it all the way to the ground. The padded section Jake was lying on disconnected from the chair's chassis and Murray pushed it out of the way then knelt down next to him. "All right. Now put your arms around my neck and I'll slide you onto the floor. We'll do some stretching exercises first."

Jake struggled to rid himself of this feeling of confinement. Lying on his back on the mat on the floor, the only thing he could do was lift his arms, head and shoulders off the ground. He worked his elbows under his shoulders to push himself a bit higher while he watched Murray stretch his legs and feet and then the hip joints. Once he finished he moved on to stretch Jake's back gently, but even a minor rotation in his lower back was excruciatingly painful and made Jake's eyes water. He groaned and exhaled sharply with every movement.

Jake wanted to scream. He wished it had been a person who had shot at him and not a computer and he wished for that person to stand in front of him now so that he could have shouted out his frustration or even better beaten the crap out of him. _Look at what you've done to me._ He wanted someone to blame.

"Murray, please give me a break. It hurts like hell."

"All right. I'll give you a few minutes. I need to go check on something quickly anyway. Let me turn you over onto your stomach."

"Okay." He was used to being turned over by now. The nurses shifted his body every couple of hours, but not often onto his stomach.

"I'll be back just now and then we'll do a few strengthening exercises." He got up and left, closing the door behind him.

Jake brought his arms forward and wiped his eyes. He pushed himself up on his elbows a bit. _Not so bad_. He pushed higher and pulled himself forward. _Yeah_. He had just moved on his own for the first time, even if just a few inches. He tried the other elbow. He felt a pinch in his left shoulder, his torn rotator cuff was obviously not entirely healed, but it didn't stop the grin from appearing on Jake's face. He dragged his body forward another two feet to the edge of the mat. Then it hit him. The grin faded from his face. _This is it. This is all I'll ever be_. Without a wheelchair or other assistive technology, Jake Sully who had been a competitive athlete for nearly two decades of his young life, was reduced to dragging himself across the floor on his elbows and he would never stand up again, never walk, never run, never snowboard; and never was a hell of a long time. He folded his arms under his head and let out a long wailing cry. He felt isolated and lonely, his future inconceivable at this point, his present torn and broken and his past too painful to remember because he had lost so much and worst of all, he had lost himself.

When Murray returned a few minutes later he found an inconsolable Jake. He knelt down next to him and put his hand on Jake's shoulder. "Hey, Jake," he said gently.

After a while Jake turned his head to look at Murray, trying to stifle another sob. He ran his hand over his face. "Murray, I can't do this."

"Yes, you can. I know it's hard for you, but you will get better, I promise."

"Yes, better, but never good enough to be able to stand, let alone walk." Jake's voice was still choked up.

"Walking is overrated. Come let's do just a few exercises to get you fit again. Can I move you?"

Jake sighed. "Sure. I don't want to spend the rest of my life lying here on the floor."

Murray rolled him onto his back again. "Put your arms around my neck." Jake complied. Murray took him back to the center of the mat and put him down again then he got the blanket and put it over Jake's legs. He handed Jake a soft foam ball the size of a basketball. He got up and stood in front of Jake. "Hold the ball in front of your chest. Now I want you to throw the ball to me and every time you throw lift your shoulders and chest as high off the floor as you can." They did several sets of throwing the ball back and forth.

"Okay," Murray said, "one more set," while Jake rested, exhausted from nothing more than throwing a light-weight ball around. "I want to take your gown off. Can you untie it yourself?"

"Sure." Jake undid the gown behind his neck and looked at Murray questioningly. Since Jake was lying on top of the gown, Murray helped him take it off. He adjusted the blanket so that it covered Jake's legs and lower body just below the navel. Then he stood up and threw the ball back at Jake.

"Why are you doing this?" Jake asked curiously.

"I'll show you now." They kept passing the ball back and forth. After a while he said. "I thought so—the next time you throw look at your stomach."

Jake did. "Oh my god!" Jake could see his stomach muscles contract. Not with any strength, but they were definitely moving.

"Five more," Murray said passing the ball back to Jake. Jake kept looking at his stomach and every time he saw the muscles twitch the grin on his face grew wider.

"Okay. I think this is enough for today. Let's end on a high note."

When Jake was back in his bed he rested for a while with his eyes closed, thinking about the session. He was glad he had been able to achieve some tangible progress today and though he still felt utterly depressed about the prospect of having to use a wheelchair for the rest of his life, he decided not to make any rash judgments about how restricted and limited his life would be. He would just take it one day at a time.

He called JJ at his office. JJ answered almost immediately.

"Hi Jake. You have been very quiet. How are things going?"

"Hi JJ. So-so. Sorry, I don't feel much like talking, but I'm making some progress."

"Like?"

"A bit less pain, a bit more movement; today my stomach muscles started to respond again."

"That's good to hear."

"I still can't sit. Maybe another four weeks or so, but I got out of the bed for the first time today."

"And how was that?"

"Devastating to be honest. I just cannot fathom spending the rest of my life in a wheelchair, but that's the long and the short of it." A tear appeared in the corner of his right eye and he let it run down his face.

"I would really like to come visit you."

"Please don't JJ. I can't handle it."

"Okay," JJ sighed, "but I'll keep asking."

"JJ can you please do me a favor?"

"Sure what can I do?"

"Can you please get all my sports gear out of storage and all the equipment that's at your house and either sell it or give it away?"

"If that's what you want?"

"Yes, I never want to see it again."

"Okay, I'll do that."

"And also…"

"Yeah?"

"Sell the Harley." The electric motor cycle was one of Jake's most prized possessions.

"But Jake, the Harley…" JJ wasn't sure what to say.

"JJ please, I can't ride the bike anymore."

"All right."

"You don't have to rush. I'll probably be in hospital for another four months, but please make sure it's gone before I get out."

"No worries. Anything else?"

"No that's it. Thanks JJ—got to go,"

"All right Jake. All the best."

Jake cut the connection and closed his eyes again trying not to think. He felt completely exhausted, mentally as well as physically.

The door opened and Dr. Lassiter walked into the room. "Hi Jake. I spoke to Murray. He said your stomach muscles are responding. That's really good news."

"Yes. Weakly, but they did." He smiled.

"And how was the experience of being out of your bed?"

The smile faded from his face, his eyes started to brim and he shook his head, but he didn't say anything.

She looked at him for a moment. "That bad?" She pulled up a chair and sat down next to him. Then she took his hand and held it until Jake had cried himself to sleep.


	5. Fort Belvoir, VA, Sat 24 Sep 2146

Fort Belvoir, VA, Sat 24 Sep 2146

_When I was lying there in the VA hospital, with a big hole blown through the middle of my life, I started having these dreams of flying. I was free…_

Jake woke up with a start, sweating. He was wearing a hospital gown and was covered by a plain sheet and a top blanket over his legs up to his waist. The sheet and the gown were wet and clinging to his chest, intensifying the feeling of being trapped. He felt the overwhelming desire to move, to stand up and to run, anything to get his heart rate up, to chase away the feeling of isolation and confinement. He pushed the sheet down to his waist and balled both hands into fists.

Jake tried to swallow but his throat was dry. He reached for the water bottle on the tray next to his bed, but at the moment it was just beyond the range of his fingertips. _Fuck_. He wanted to scream in frustration. He was lying on his back and the pain in his back was excruciating. Some days the pain was better, on others it was worse; today definitely qualified as worst.

After a month and a half at Walter Reed which had mostly been signified by stupendous boredom, interspersed by encouraging chats with Dr. Lassiter and being fussed over by an all too maternal Janice, grueling physiotherapy sessions and psychological counseling, he had been transferred to the Veterans Association Hospital and Rehab Facility at Fort Belvoir. Jake had been transferred here because it was one of the facilities closest to Walter Reed and near the Marine Corps Head Quarters at Quantico and he hadn't yet made up his mind where else he wanted to go. He had briefly considered a transfer to a facility closer to Tom in New Jersey, but he had soon decided that the proximity would only damage their relationship further. Whenever Tom came by, he didn't seem to be able to look at Jake without a pained look on his face. Their conversations remained superficial, too many things left unsaid. Tom would excuse himself quickly and the periods between his visits grew longer.

Since his move here four days ago they had switched him to non-narcotic painkillers and they definitely weren't nearly as effective as what they had given him at Walter Reed. He still had the IV access above his left clavicle, but it wasn't permanently connected. It just served as a means of easy access to get medication into his blood without having to find veins the whole time. He would have been a pin cushion by now. Unlike at Walter Reed where a computer had provided a continuous stream of sedatives that he could control to a certain degree, the manual administration meant more pronounced ups and downs.

Jake slowly pushed himself up by working his elbows underneath his shoulders, trying to stretch his back muscles somewhat. The pain didn't get any better, if anything it got worse. "Arrrgh, fuck!" He shouted out his frustration and fell back. Fortunately he had the room to himself. Having other people around, observing him struggling physically as well as emotionally would have added a whole new layer of complexity to his life that he wasn't willing to deal with, yet. Other than his brother, the doctors and the nursing staff he spoke to few people and saw even fewer and he was glad about it.

On a good day he was able to sit up on his own now and even hold his balance for more than a few seconds. To cross the thirty seconds mark had been his first big victory. His physio therapist had timed him. Now his record was a minute and twenty six seconds—on a good day. When he had woken up a bit more than six weeks ago, he had had relatively normal sensation in his torso, but the motor function of his back and stomach muscles that had been affected by the bruising in his spine at chest level had since returned. He was fortunate Dr. Lassiter had assured him that only the loss of function in his lower extremities was permanent.

On a good day he was even able to move between the bed and the wheelchair on his own now. _Whatever you set your mind to…_ On a bad day like this one shaped up to be, however, he might not be able to sit up at all or even turn himself over. Jake made a deal with himself. He wouldn't call the nursing station and ask for an injection. He would either get there on his own to ask for it in in person or not at all.

His bed had rails on all four sides for him to grab on to and a bar suspended above his chest to pull himself up. The top layer he was lying on was specialized, soft foam, but on a harder surface it would have been easier to move. He grabbed the left rail with is left hand and pulled himself closer, groaning against the pain, till he could reach with his right hand. He pulled, twisting his torso and he heard and felt a vertebra in his back pop. The pain eased back to a more manageable level. The problem with his weak back muscles was that they couldn't hold his spine in proper alignment and the soft memory foam, beneficial on one hand in preventing pressure sores, didn't support the alignment enough to keep the odd vertebra or disk from slipping and pinching a nerve.

Jake reached under the sheet for his right leg and pulled it up and over the left so that he was lying stable on his side. He could now reach the side table and grabbed the water bottle and a tissue from the table to wipe away the tears the pain had brought to his eyes. Then he balled it up and threw it onto the floor.

He wanted to get into the gym. It had a large pool and he figured that swimming would help him speed up strengthening his back and therefore the recovery process. He had asked for permission, but the doctor who was treating him here had said it was too soon. Jake couldn't see the reason in that. He felt that if the pain was under control he was strong enough to swim. So the doctor was either risk adverse or indifferent or both or for whatever other reason he had declined. Last night Jake had called Dr. Lassiter and asked for her opinion. She had encouraged him to try. However, he needed to have the IV and the indwelling catheter removed. Jake tried to decide on the best approach to achieve his goal. Most of the nurses here were women and all they wanted was to get the job done with as little fuss as possible. Jake didn't think any of them would be particularly keen to listen to his pleas to take the catheter out. They would think that it meant more work for them. Hopefully the male nurse he had seen during the week would be on duty again, soon. He felt he stood a better chance with him and Jake didn't see why he couldn't catheterize himself now already. Sooner or later he would have to do it anyway. Bladder control was one of the functions he wouldn't regain.

He considered his knee. His still wore a brace on his left knee, but two weeks ago he had had the surgery that fixed the ligaments. It had been a battle with military and insurance red tape. The insurance' argument had been that someone who couldn't walk wouldn't need an intact knee, but Dr. Lassiter had helped him argue the point that in the long term it would prevent other health issues and thus save the insurance money. After a week of haggling and a bit of support from some high-ranking Marine Corps official, the request had been granted.

This brace was much smaller than the one before the surgery and it was made from neoprene and Velcro and he decided it wouldn't be an obstacle to swimming. The incision on the underside of his knee was all healed as well.

Over the last weeks, Jake had observed the muscles in his legs waste away. When he looked at these atrophied legs now, he felt a strange, almost visceral reaction in his chest. His legs had become entirely alien to him. Not just that he couldn't feel or move them, they also didn't look like his legs anymore. Dr. Lassiter had said that there was a chance that he could regain some feeling and even movement in his quadriceps, but so far nothing. Now, as he traced his index finger over the front of his right quad near the groin he noticed a faint tingling sensation. He put his hand flat on the side of his thigh and pushed his thumb hard into the quadriceps. The tingling intensified. Tears shot back into his eyes and he just lay there and cried. Small victories.

A while later he rolled back onto his back. His lower back was still painfully sore, albeit on a more acceptable level. He grabbed the bar suspended above his chest with both hands and slowly worked himself into a sitting position. He could have raised the head end of the bed and let it do the work for him, but that felt like cheating. He grabbed the bed control and lowered the whole bed, the bar he was still holding onto with one hand for balance, lowered with it. When the bed was level with the wheelchair he stopped. This was not _his _wheelchair. His own chair that Dr. Lassiter had given him as a symbolic farewell present was parked across the room. It had no arm rests and a very low back and he couldn't use it yet because of his lack of balance and core strength, but his own chair provided a visible goal to work towards.

Very slowly Jake moved into the hospital chair. If he could do it on a bad day like this, it was a definite improvement to be grateful for. He pulled his left leg off the bed and placed it on the foot rest, then the right. He poked his quadriceps again, to make sure the sensation was still there—it was.

Jake's trip to the nursing station was brief, but he was relieved to see Ricardo, the male nurse on duty. He had no interest in chatting to any of the other patients who had gathered in the common room watching TV or playing cards. He just wanted to be alone, so after he had asked Ricardo for the painkiller he went straight back to his room and began the slow and painful process of getting back into bed. When he was finally settled down, the bed raised again and now the head end, too, so that he could lie with his upper body at a forty five degree angle, Ricardo appeared with the syringe. He injected the painkiller into Jake's IV then he pulled the sheet back to check on the catheter and bag. Jake decided now was as good a time to ask as any.

"Ricardo, won't you do me a favor? Won't you remove the indwelling catheter and show me how to do it myself? The doc said he was going to have it pulled next week anyway, but to be honest I feel awkward with the female nurses. I'd rather you show me." It was an outright lie, but Jake figured that Ricardo would either do it without checking back with the doctor, who wasn't here over the weekend in any case or not at all.

"Hmm. I think I can do that for you."

Jake breathed a sigh of relief. He doubted that Ricardo would get into trouble even if the doctor disagreed, they would just put it back. Ricardo was a young guy, probably a few years younger than Jake himself and he seemed to still have some compassion, not like many of the older staff who considered the patients a nuisance. Janice had been one notable exception.

"Okay, here we go." Ricardo had removed the catheter and Jake hadn't even noticed because he hadn't paid attention.

"Now I want you to drink lots over the next two hours and then I'll come back after lunch and show you how it's done."

"Thanks, Ricardo. Won't you get me my surf shorts and a T-Shirt out of the drawer? I'm tired of wearing hospital gowns the whole time and my brother is coming to visit. I want to surprise him by actually welcoming him at the doors." This was also a half-truth, Tommy would be coming later this afternoon, but he doubted that Ricardo was going to support his plan if he knew that Jake wanted his shorts so he could sneak into the pool.

"Sure." He pulled open the drawer and got the clothes. "Do you want help putting them on?"

"No, thanks. I think I can figure out how to dress myself."

"Just don't fall out of bed. You wouldn't be the first."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Jake said acerbically.

Ricardo just shrugged and left.

Taking off the hospital gown was easy. Then Jake pulled the IV needle out of the skin above the clavicle. He used some tissue to apply pressure and after a while the bleeding stopped. He didn't have a plaster to stick on and he sure wouldn't ask for one now. It didn't matter; the T-shirt was black, it wouldn't show any conspicuous blood stains. He pulled on his shirt and for the first time he almost felt like himself again. With his legs hidden from view under the sheet and blanket he could pretend for a brief moment that it was Saturday morning and he was at home in his flat in San Diego, propped up on his bed on some big pillows and watching something on TV. Emily would walk back into the bedroom now with two mugs of coffee...

"No!" He opened his eyes and pulled the covers back from his legs to bring himself back into the present. He didn't want to think about Emily. She had dumped him shortly before he had been deployed to Venezuela and the last person he wanted to think about at this point in time was her.

He grabbed the shorts. _Now what?_ Jake grabbed his left leg and pulled his thigh towards his chest, but the range of motion in his knee was limited because it had been immobilized for six week prior to the surgery and then due the surgery itself that had reattached the shortened ligaments. His knee wouldn't even bend to ninety degrees and his back was even stiffer so that he could reach no further than halfway down his shin, let alone manage to slip his shorts over his left foot. Jake howled in frustration, trying to escape the thought that kept going around in circles inside his head. _Why me?_

He let go of his leg and it flopped down, just a useless piece of meat. Jake stared at it in disgust. _Why me?_ He couldn't even dress himself. A surge of anger rose up in him; anger at being defeated by his own body. He grabbed the plastic water bottle off the table and hurled it against the wall with another roar of frustration. It made him feel better. He closed his eyes and thought logically about the situation; there had to be another way. He grabbed the bar and pulled himself upright. Then he leaned forward, putting his hands down on either side of his legs to prevent himself from falling over, and eased himself forward bit by bit. He could bend well at the hips, but the stiffness and fused vertebrae in his back still limited how far he could reach. The pain spiked again and he had to balance himself on one hand, but finally he managed to slip the shorts over his feet. Very slowly he pulled them on, one tug at a time and pushed himself up until he fell back against the raised head end. _Why me?_ He was so exhausted he had to rest for half an hour until he felt strong enough to get back into the wheelchair. When he finally arrived, he pulled the fleece blanket from the end of this bed and draped it over his legs. Then he got a towel, folded it neatly, hid it under the blanket and slowly made his way to the gym. Nobody stopped him to ask where he was going.

There were a few people working out in the gym, but he recognized none of them. Jake noticed a black guy stacking weights who looked like he was working here. He rolled up to him.

"Hi, there. Do you work here?"

"Hi, yes, I'm Trev. I'm one of the trainers here at the gym. Can I help you?"

"Jake." He extended his hand and Trev shook it. "I want to go for a swim. Would you please give me a hand getting in and out of the water?"

"Sure. You want to get changed first? I'll keep an eye out for you and meet you at the edge of the pool in a few minutes."

"No, no need to get changed. I just need to take the shirt off."

"Okay, let's go then." Together they made their way towards the pool.

"Thanks, Trev."

"Paraplegic?"

Jake nodded.

"Complete or incomplete?"

"Complete L1, but I also had spinal bruising at T6 so I need to work on core strength mostly at the moment."

"Swimming is a good choice. How long ago?"

"Eight weeks Monday."

Trev looked surprised. "That recent? You are doing better than most. Okay, Marine, huh?" He pointed at Jake's T-shirt.

"Yeah, First Recon."

"U-huh, the ultra-tough guys."

They had arrived next to the pool. Nobody else was using it at the moment. Jake pulled off the T-shirt and put it aside with the towel and blanket.

"Your first swim?" Trev helped Jake onto the floor and slide into the water.

Jake nodded. "Yeah."

"Okay, just stay close to the edge so you can hold on in case you get a cramp or get tired. Don't want to have to dive you out."

Jake managed a tentative smile. "Understood. I'll take it easy today. Just want to see how it goes."

"Okay, I'll keep an eye on you anyway."

Jake enjoyed being in the water. He felt less clumsy and confined. He had been a serious athlete since childhood and the only other time in his life he had had to take it easy for a while was when he had broken his arm at seventeen. He swam a few slow lengths. Breast stroke didn't work so well, but he could crawl and do back stroke. His shoulder muscles were doing fine. That, he decided, was what he would be doing every day from now on.

He even managed to push himself out of the water and sat on the edge, his feet still in the pool. He grabbed the towel with both hands and thoroughly and deliberately toweled off his hair and face, arms and upper body. Then he dropped the towel, stuck his arm under his knees lifting them and rolled onto his side bringing his legs out of the water and toweled them off as well. Trev walked up to him with a stop watch in his hand.

"What's your record sitting upright without holding on for balance?"

"Eight six seconds, yesterday."

"Congratulations. You just managed a hundred and thirty three toweling yourself off until you rolled over onto your side."

Jake looked surprised. He had really struggled to hold on for the eighty six. Trev brought the wheelchair closer. Jake folded up the towel and put it on the seat. Then Trev helped Jake back into it. He continued. "Don't look so surprised. The reason you could sit up much longer today is because you didn't think about it. Be aware of self-limiting beliefs. If deep down you believe that it will take months to regain full balance, then it will."

"Thanks for pointing that out."

"Okay, you're welcome."

Jake put his T-shirt back on and replaced the blanket over his legs. "Are you working tomorrow again?"

"Yup."

"I'll see if I can sneak out again."

Trev laughed. "I thought you did—good for you man, good for you." He extended his fist and Jake touched knuckles with him.

Jake was still on a high when he got back into his room and into bed just in time for lunch. After lunch Ricardo returned for the catheter lesson. It wasn't difficult, just annoying having to do it in the first place, three times a day at least, for the rest of his life.

Jake put the bed's head end back at the forty five degrees angle and slept for a while. By two forty five when he woke up, he was in serious pain again. The injection had worn off and the pain was approaching the morning's intensity. With the IV removed he couldn't just ask for another injection without getting into a lengthy explanation or even argument why he had removed it in the first place. He could barely move now and Tommy would be here by three. He had a bottle of oxycodone from Walter Reed in the chest of drawers across the room. Jake wanted to scream in frustration again that the three yards that separated him from the drawer had become another impassable chasm.

He had wanted to be in the wheelchair for a change when Tommy arrived. Maybe that would make Tom more comfortable in Jake's presence. Tom's tentative and uneasy behavior remained a mystery to Jake. Sure, as far as identical twins went they were probably the most different you could be with an identical set of genes, and the older they were, the more distant they had become and the more often they got into arguments. During every one of the three visits Tom had paid him over the last few weeks, he had been highly uncomfortable and unable to maintain proper eye contact with Jake. Their conversations had been superficial and he had never stayed very long. On the positive side, Tom had not been as openly dismissive of Jake, the way he used to be before the injury. Jake wondered why he came in the first place.

Jake checked the time again, it was ten to three. Getting into the wheelchair was out of the question with this amount of pain. He put his arms above his head and grabbed the rail at the top end of the bed, his hands as far apart as possible. He pulled himself up and the pain eased off a bit. Another pinched nerve then or still the same. Jake crossed his hands over and tried to twist his upper body again, but the vertebrae wouldn't budge. He crossed his hands the other way and tried to twist the other direction. It had been the wrong move to make. Fiery pain shot through Jake's upper body, made his eyes water and another shouted, "aaargh, fuck," escaped from his mouth—just as the door opened.

Tom stood like a statue, staring at Jake while the door closed in slow motion behind him. Then he turned around and reached for the door handle.

"Tom, no, wait." Jake managed to say.

Tom turned around again. Jake hooked one arm over the top rail and let go with the other pointing at the dresser. "Top drawer, orange bottle on the left." He was panting.

Tom walked up to the dresser and pulled the drawer open. He took the bottle of oxycodone, read the label and opened it.

"Two," Jake held his hand out. Tom dropped two of the capsules into it. Jake popped them into his mouth. He was still holding on above his head trying to take pressure off his spine. He tried to reach the water bottle on the table again, but couldn't. Tom handed it to him. The first expressions of surprise and then horror had now been replaced by the usual pained look he wore when in Jake's presence.

"Hi Jake. I don't think I need to ask you how you are."

"Tom, just give me five minutes and I will be better. Sorry you had to witness this, but then again now you know what it's like to be me."

Tom's carefully maintained composure cracked. He started pacing around the room.

"Fuck you, you got what you deserved! Why did you have to join the Marine Corps in the first place? If you had used just a fraction of your intelligence and opened your eyes to what is going on around us, none of this would have happened. You wouldn't be lying here paralyzed."

Jake's mouth compressed into a grim narrow line. "Tom, please now is not a good time…"

"No? When is a good time? When will you finally wake up and understand that our planet is dying a slow, but not so distant death and that our own government is one of the worst culprits, a government that has been using you to do its bidding and you have only been too happy to oblige. It's always been about you. About your ego, about what you want. When have you ever done anything for anybody else? And now that the system that you are a part of has used you up and spit you out broken and screaming in pain, now you want me to feel sorry for you? Grow up Jake!"

Jake closed his eyes. He was squirming, trying to maintain his hold on the bed. The rail was cutting into his arm and he switched to the other. _I can't deal with this now_. The physical pain was bad enough, but on top of that Tom's words were scathing and cut deep. He couldn't hide and he couldn't stop hearing what Tom was saying. He was a grunt, a pawn in a chess game that he didn't understand. Easily wasted and cast aside broken into the gutter; Tom's words revealed the futility of Jake's sacrifice. "Tommy, please," he pleaded. Tears were now running down his face. He wiped at them angrily.

"You have an IQ that most people can only dream of, yet you chose to crawl around in toxic mud instead of applying your mind on how to clean it up. Now your government shipped you off to dispose of another, democratically elected government and for what? So that they can drill some more holes and pollute our planet a bit faster to hasten its untimely demise? People are dying out there like flies without any access to clean water or sufficient food or medical treatment. What did you ever do for them?"

"I don't care about your people, there are too many of them in any case!" Jake shouted back; he had finally found his voice.

"You selfish prick. The only person you ever cared about is yourself; and now once more you are making those who care about you suffer and you don't give a fucking damn!"

"Like you care. You have never given me any credit for my achievements or just once acknowledged that my values and beliefs are worth standing up for."

"Yeah, well, you're not standing up anymore."

"That doesn't make them any less valid!"

"So what do you believe in then?"

"Honesty, integrity, honor ..."

Tom laughed out loud. "You believe in honesty and yet you work for a government that lies to you through their teeth. You believe in integrity when your government sells you out to the highest corporate bidder and where is the honor in vilifying others and then taking what is rightfully theirs by force?"

"Go away and fuck you, too, Tom! You don't care about me either. Whatever I did—what I need right now is for you to accept me, broken as I am and not put a guilt trip on me for not living up to your expectations! Because they are your expectations, not mine. As you have correctly pointed out—right now I am just trying to get through each day without screaming in pain! Try to imagine just for one minute what it's like to be this broken and with no hope of ever being whole again. Then come talk to me again!" Jake's angry voice was choked with tears.

"You just don't get it." Tom turned around and walked out of the door.

Jake grabbed the intercom and pressed the call button.

Ricardo answered. "What's up Jake? A bit of a family feud going on there?"

"Ricardo, I need a strong pain killer, the strongest you can get me, and—bring a needle." It would at least douse the pain if not the anguish.


	6. Fort Belvoir, VA, Thu 15 Dec 2146

Fort Belvoir, VA, Thu 15 Dec 2146

Jake was balancing on the rear wheels of his wheelchair in the foyer of the VA hospital, waiting. It was below freezing outside, but no snow. He had come a long way over the last four months. Over time, as the strength of the core muscles had improved the pain had slowly subsided as well. He was glad that most days he could manage without strong pain medication now.

He contemplated the usual ceremony of wheeling someone all the way to the hospital door despite the fact that they were perfectly capable to walk there on their own—for insurance reasons someone had explained to him. He saw some irony in this fact so he had asked the nurse who saw him off if she needed to push him to the door or if he was allowed to wheel there on his own. She hadn't known the answer.

A week ago he had seen Tom again for the first time since their fight in September. Tom had attended the brief ceremony at the Quantico Marine Corps Base where Jake had received his Purple Heart, a commendation for bravery under fire and his honorary discharge from the Marine Corps. Jake had been all Marine precision. His hair cropped short again and wearing his blue dress uniform, he had looked nothing short of dashing. He had polished his dress shoes till they gleamed. More than any other step in preparing for the event, polishing his shoes had been a deeply emotional and painful act.

When Jake entered the hall in which the ceremony would take place through a side entrance, Tom was already there. Jake saw the reaction on his brother's face when he noticed him. It was stronger than before and Jake considered whether it was the combination of the uniform and the wheelchair. It looked like reality had just dealt Tom a physical blow.

Jake rolled up to his brother. "Hi Tom."

"Hi Jake." His voice was strained like he was trying not to cry.

Jake felt conciliatory. "Look Tom, it is what it is. This is _my_ reality. The last thing I want is for you to feel sorry for me."

Tom sighed. "Okay, I get it, but it's still hard for me seeing you like this," he swallowed.

Jake regarded his brother and wondered if Tom felt guilty or if it was simply the fact that Tom saw a mirror image of himself that was no longer identical. Maybe it was the cognitive dissonance that was so hard for him to deal with.

The base commander entered with his staff and Jake turned away from Tom to take up his position among the few other Marines that were being discharged like himself. It was a brief affair. Afterward, when Jake turned his attention back to his brother, Tom seemed to have relaxed a bit. He walked next to Jake as he rolled towards the main doors of the hall and on towards the bus that was waiting to take him back to the VA facility.

Tom finally broke the silence "What are going to do now?"

Jake looked up at his brother. "Going back to Belvoir; in a week I'll be out of rehab. I'll go collect my stuff from Pendleton and then I'm going to find myself a place to live." The Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton in California was home to the Marine Corps' 1st Reconnaissance Battalion that Jake had been a part of and had been Jake's home before he'd shipped out to Venezuela.

"My offer for you to come and stay with me still stands."

Jake stopped and rotated the chair towards his brother. "I do appreciate your offer and I have considered it, but I have decided to go back to Denver for now." Jake wasn't quite sure how to interpret the emotions he saw in Tom's face. Relief? He let it go.

"Denver? Why in the world would you want to go back there?" It was where they had grown up. "There's nothing there."

"Exactly, that's what I want right now. I want some anonymity. I need to find myself first." He turned again and carried on towards the waiting bus. He had rolled onto the chair lift and looked back at Tom who hadn't moved. "I'll call you when I've settled in" Jake had made his voice carry so that his brother would hear him over the noise of the lift. Then he had disappeared into the bus and had left Tom standing where he was.

Jake gazed at the barren landscape and half-empty parking lot beyond the hospital doors. Technically he was no longer part of the Marine Corps now, but being a Marine, he figured, was a state of mind. It wasn't about belonging to a specific organization; it was all about identity, all about attitude and how you defined yourself.

He still hadn't figured out exactly who he was going to be. That's why he needed to go to Denver and retrace his roots. He had accepted the fact that he was no longer the same Jake Sully he had been four and a half months earlier. The man with a purpose, the man with a clear direction and the man with a childlike enthusiasm for anything physical, fast and dangerous and it still hurt him to his core that in all likelihood he wouldn't be able to skydive again. Not that he wouldn't do it even now—no, he'd do it in a heartbeat, but the doctors at the VA hospital had told him he couldn't, and no commercial operator was going to take him other than on a tandem jump, because they feared the legal implications in case anything should go wrong.

He had argued until he was blue in the face, but no one seemed to care that he was a Marine with several hundred jumps to his name. All they worried about was that he didn't meet their fitness criteria and therefore would fall outside of their liability coverage. Not fit enough; that was a joke, really. Ever since Dr. Lassiter had given him the all clear he had worked hard to reclaim his body. His cardie-vascular fitness was as good now as before the accident and his upper body strength was even better.

At the VA facility's gym, he swam at least a kilometer each day now, as a substitute for his old self's daily running routine. He missed being able to run outside, even though that meant having to run with a full breathing kit. Yet that had been a minor inconvenience compared to the joy he'd felt at being outdoors and exposed to the elements. These days his workouts were very much an indoors affair: swimming, weights, Pilates under the instruction of his physio-therapist, more weights and lastly stretching exercises to maintain and improve his range of motion and flexibility.

Several times a week he played basketball with others, who like him where in need of a wheelchair to get around. He enjoyed the competitiveness and physicality of the team sport and though he talked to these others, he hadn't really made friends with any of the 'crips', as they called themselves. He pondered this now, why he had kept these people at arm's length despite their friendly efforts to integrate him into their group. The most important reason, he thought, was that by calling themselves 'crips' they were acknowledging, no more than that, they were actually creating a separateness and distinctness from the 'normal' people in society that he found hurtful. Though some would have thought that his refusal to accept their comradeship was a reflection of the refusal to accept himself as he was now, that was not at all the case.

He had worked through the denial phase of the grieving process and together with his psychologist and long chats with Dr. Lassiter he had come to accept himself as the Jake Sully he was now. Sure, some days were worse than others. Some days he would be ambushed by depression, but the bouts usually didn't last very long. As soon as he recalled Dr. Lassiter's words about his own responsibility the cloud would become less oppressive. So far he had steadfastly refused the chemical 'mood-enhancers' that would easily be at his disposal. Rather he would retreat into the corner of the gym where the overhead punching ball was suspended and punch the little ball until the sweat was pouring out of every pore and his arms were too tired to be held up over his head. In Jake's mind his body's own endorphins were infinitely better than anything the pharma-industry had to offer.

Jake did not want to become one of the 'crips', he mused, because he would never identify himself as a cripple. He did not consider himself disabled. He had no dis-ability. His abilities had simply shifted. He acknowledged, though, that he was facing an uphill battle against the public's perception of wheelchair users. Like the people in the various skydiving clubs he had contacted. That was one of the reasons why he wasn't sure yet, who Jake Sully was going to be. That's why he needed to go to Denver.

Finally the cab arrived that would take him to Dulles International Airport. Jake had opted for civilian transport. He had decided to face the public head-on after the relative seclusion of the last four and a half months. He ignored the uncomfortable stares of the cab driver and declined any help to get into the cab. The driver tried to engage Jake in conversation, but Jake simply ignored him. The driver gave up.

Jake thought about the trip ahead. He was going to fly to San Diego, where JJ, his best friend and fellow Marine would pick him up and drive him back to MCB Camp Pendleton. At the Marine Corps Base Jake's few personal belonging had been put into storage the day before he'd shipped out to Venezuela a little more than four and a half months ago. Now that seemed like a lifetime.

JJ was his closest friend, yet Jake hadn't been able to bring himself to allow JJ to come visit—despite that their friendship had a casualness to it that Jake thought he could never achieve with his brother. If anything, he and Tom continued to grow further apart.

To ease his own nerves, Jake had talked to JJ a lot during the last two weeks and he had made a point of showing him the latest improvements and tricks he had learned with his wheelchair through the video feed, to make it easier on himself and JJ when they finally met again in person. Jake sincerely hoped that their friendship would not become awkward.

The flight to San Diego was event-less. For security reasons he had had to trade his custom wheelchair for one of the airline's and it was old and tatty and made Jake feel clumsy. He hoped that he would have his own chair back before he met JJ. To board the plane they put him on yet another chair, a really narrow one that allowed navigating the narrow isle of the plane. Worst of all it didn't allow Jake to drive the chair himself. He bristled at being pushed down the gangway and into the plane. Dr. Lassiter's words came back to him. _The reason you are here is the culmination of all of your decisions. It is your path and your choice where you go from here_. He surrendered.

The same procedure when he disembarked in San Diego, and this time it wasn't as chafing as before. Nonetheless he was very relieved to see his own chair waiting at the end of the gangway. He retrieved his bag from the carousel and slipped it over his head like a scuba rig. That way he had the greatest freedom of movement. The door to the waiting area parted and Jake rolled through. He saw JJ immediately and felt quiet relief when JJ's face broke into a broad grin. _Good old JJ_.

Marine Captain John Julius Sharpe held out his hand and Jake took it in the familiar way like they were settling down for an arm wrestling match.

"You look good, man. Nothing like a little R&R at government expense, huh?" JJ's deep baritone was a perfect match for this tall, muscular, black man.

Jake grinned back. "So good to see a friendly face—you do realize I'll have to find a way to wipe that self-satisfied smile off it. If you think that you'll beat me more easily now, I'm afraid you'll find that I'm stronger than ever."

JJ chuckled. "We'll see about that. Want me to take your pack?" The immediate sense of understanding and mutual respect had put Jake at ease. He turned the chair around, rolled backwards putting some distance between himself and JJ and pulled the pack back over his head in one smooth move. Then he threw it at JJ. "Catch!" Jake stopped the backward acceleration of the chair before JJ had recovered from his surprise. He had caught the pack out of sheer reflex. Now he weighed it in his hands.

"I'm impressed". JJ beamed at Jake "Man, Jake, you have no idea how glad I am that you only lost your legs and not your sense of humor." Their bantering continued while they made their way to the public parking lot. After a few minutes, they arrived next to JJ's pick-up. It was a crew-cab truck with a raised suspension, not unlike Jake's own, but unlike Jake's, which was running on a standard hydrogen-electric engine, JJ's was a fossil—technologically speaking. It was a collector's item and required all kinds of special permits for running on an old-fashioned diesel engine. When Jake had received his marching orders they had joked about the fact that it was Jake's personal responsibility to make sure that JJ could continue to indulge in his expensive hobby.

JJ opened the passenger door and threw Jake's pack in the back seat. Then he turned around and regarded Jake, his hands on his hips. "I can throw you in just the same, do you want a leg up or are you going to climb in on your own?"

"Let's skip the throwing; I wouldn't want to break my back." Jake thoroughly enjoyed the easygoing banter.

JJ laughed out loud.

Jake carried on. "A leg up would be fine; I figure I'll start my mountain climbing career tomorrow."

"Okay, sure," and without any hesitation JJ bent down, put one arm behind Jake's back and one under his legs and lifted him up like he would a child. He placed Jake on the passenger seat. "This is your welcome present. Just don't think I'm going to do this all the time."

Jake noted that with JJ he didn't feel the usual awkwardness and resentment at being helped. He attributed it to JJ complete lack of self-consciousness in Jake's presence; no pity, just the unspoken sense of acceptance and respect that Jake longed for.


	7. San Diego, CA, Thu 15 Dec 2146

San Diego, CA, Thu 15 Dec 2146

They had finished dinner. JJ's wife Nora had been just as easygoing as her husband and their five year old son Tyler had had no qualms about climbing onto Jake's lap and demanding to be driven around the house and spun in circles until even Jake felt dizzy. Nora had taken the baby, Chloe, to bed soon after dinner. Then she had returned and rescued Jake from Tyler's constant badgering and retired herself. Like JJ, she was career military and working shifts in the 1st Marine Logistics Group. Her night would be over at three in the morning.

Jake had just finished recounting the events of his ill-fated jump and rescue and JJ had asked many questions with open curiosity which Jake had answered with candor. Jake had explained his exercise regimen and boasted about his fitness, buoyed by his second beer. He had had no alcohol in the past four and a half months, so he felt its effect. They were downstairs in JJ's basement den. Jake's wheelchair had remained upstairs and JJ had challenged Jake to make his way downstairs on his own. Jake had considered his choices and then opted for sliding down the stairs, forward, on his stomach. Then he had pulled himself across the carpeted floor on his elbows until he reached one of JJ's lazy chair recliners. He had pulled himself up and made himself comfortable.

JJ had cheered him on. "Technical score 9 out of 10, style 6 out of 10," he had chirped. Jake had laughed.

He thought about that little show again just now. He felt so very at ease in JJ's company. He wished his relationship with Tom were this uncomplicated.

"Thanks a lot, JJ."

"For what?"

"For making it easy for me to be myself and for respecting me. With you I can really relax. You are more of a brother to me than Tom ever was and maybe ever will be."

"I really don't get how identical twins can be so different," he scoffed. "Would you like me to talk some sense into him?"

"No, I don't think that would improve the situation at all."

"Never mind then, but the offer stands. Just let me know if I can do something."

"Thanks, I do appreciate it."

"I have a surprise for you." JJ stood up, walked over to the bar fridge and extracted two more beers. He tossed one overhand to Jake who picked it out of the air with one hand.

"Your hand-eye coordination is really remarkable, but then you were always good at anything that struck a chord with you." JJ walked back towards his recliner.

Jake called him back. "Hey, come here."

JJ ambled over, popping his beer.

"Put the beer down. I'll show you some advanced hand-eye coordination."

"Sure." JJ stepped next to the recliner and bent forward to put his beer on the side table next to where Jake had placed his. "Now what would you like me to …"

That was exactly what Jake had hoped for. Before JJ straightened up and finished the sentence, Jake took hold of JJ's left hand with his right and put on a wrist lock pulling JJ sideways. Before JJ lost his balance forward though, Jake had also locked the elbow and shifted JJ's center of gravity backwards. Jake leaned forward and hooked his other arm around JJ's knees preventing him from stepping back to regain his balance. JJ kept falling backwards, unable to control his momentum. Jake's right hand released JJ's left and grabbed the outside of JJ's right shirt sleeve near the shoulder, spinning him around. The weight of the heavier man propelled them both forward with JJ landing on his stomach on the carpet next to the recliner and Jake on top, holding JJ in a perfect mock choke hold. After a few seconds, Jake released the choke and pushed himself off JJ. He grinned.

JJ rolled onto his side, supporting his head on his right hand and beamed a broad smile at Jake "I'll be damned. How the hell did you do that?"

Jake held out two fingers towards JJ like an inverted victory sign then he rotated his hand pointing the fingers at his eyes. "Advanced hand-eye coordination, like I said. Remember? I was ranked fourth Dan two months before ..."

JJ was repeatedly drawing a number four on the carpet in front of him. "What a fucking waste." He kept staring at the carpet and his number four.

Maybe it was the beer, but the comment made Jake's chest tighten. He didn't want JJ to pity him. Jake tried to figure out what to say, he didn't want to allow this perfect evening to take such a bad turn. "JJ—look—please don't do this. Please don't feel sorry for me. Whatever happened is the result of my own decisions. I am the only person that needs to feel responsible."

JJ looked up at Jake and sighed. "I'm sorry, Jake. You are right." Then his face suddenly broke into a broad grin. "Got you, you sorry bastard! I'm not feeling sorry for you at all. I'm just messing with you. If there's anyone I'm feeling sorry for it's myself. Twenty years of martial arts training and I can't even hold my own against someone like you."

Jake was only half placated "What do you mean someone _like me_, huh?"

"A fourth Dan, man. A fourth Dan. Okay, I think we have successfully proven to each other that we are both victims of our own bad assumptions."

Jake relaxed again. "Yes, yes you are perfectly right. Though you wasted your time on your martial arts training, you certainly didn't waste it on your master in psychology. I keep forgetting that you have a secret past, counselor." Jake extended his hand and JJ took it. They shook then JJ pulled Jake towards him. Jake didn't resist. JJ slapped him on the back then he literally threw him back into the recliner like a he'd thrown Jake's pack into the back of the truck earlier.

JJ got off the floor and retrieved his beer. "Nightcap."

Jake laughed and picked up his beer, too. "You mentioned something about a surprise or was the beer it?"

"Oh—yeah—right. Well since I wasn't sure exactly how fit you'd be when you got here I decided to give you a choice."

"I'm all ears."

"I took some leave so that I can spend a week with you."

"Awesome, I appreciate that."

"Wait, that's not it. I took your truck in to be converted to hand controls like you'd asked me to. We can pick it up tomorrow morning by the way—so here's your choice. Option one, I'm going on that road trip to Denver with you. Option two, I'll take you skiing to Whistler for a week."

Jake felt overwhelmed. They had been talking about taking a trip to Whistler for years. It had just never worked out and by now Jake had come to believe it never would. Growing up, both Jake and JJ had been avid snowboarders. They had only met four years earlier and had never found the opportunity to board together, but they had shared many stories. "Whistler, for sure—even if I have to slide down the bunny slope on my sorry ass."

"I hoped you'd pick this option and I'm pretty sure you'll be able to do better than the bunny hill."

Jake's grin lit up the room.

"Okay, then" JJ continued "we'll pick up your truck in the morning. Then we'll do some shopping. I suppose you don't have any clothes for playing in the snow?"

"Yeah, sounds like a plan. When are we leaving?"

"Tomorrow evening. I've pulled some strings. We'll take a military cargo transport to Seattle. That'll save us some cash. We'll get a car there and drive up to Whistler. I have organized us a private chalet for the week; belongs to a distant relative of mine. With all the creature comforts you could possibly want, hot tub, the works. It's a bit off the beaten track, too. Thought you might want to avoid the crowds."

"JJ, I don't know what to say." Jake was clearly moved.

"You don't have to say anything. I would just like to think you'd do the same for me."

Jake felt tears rising and he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep them in check. He failed; silent tears were making tracks down his cheeks.

JJ walked over to him. He picked him up and carried him over to the sofa. There he put him down and sat down next to him. Then he just held the sobbing Jake in his arms.

After a while Jake regained control over his emotions. He pushed away from JJ. Leaning forward, he slipped the Skechers and socks he was wearing off his feet then pulled the legs of his cargo pants up to his knees. "Here, have a look." The atrophy was significant. His lower legs were skinny and lacked any muscle tone.

JJ looked, but he didn't say anything. He waited for Jake to make the point he was trying to make.

"JJ, this is my reality. Unless I win the jackpot in a lottery, these legs are never going to walk again. I am missing a solid two inches of nerve tissue in my spine and I'm only 28. I have a good 60 years ahead of me. Who the fuck am I going to be? I am a _special ops Marine_, JJ" His voice lowered till it was barely a whisper and JJ had to strain to make out the next words. "Who wants a Marine who can't walk?" Jake leaned back against the backrest of the sofa and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose again.

JJ regarded him for a moment. "Only you will be able to figure this out, but believe me Jake, I will do every darn thing I can to help you do it. Come let's get some sleep."

Jake, composure somewhat restored, looked at JJ and nodded. "I'm sorry JJ. Sometimes it just really gets me."

"No need to be sorry, Jake. I'd be worried about you if it didn't." He stood up. "You can stay down here and sleep on the sofa. I'll bring your chair down so you can move more easily. You've got the bathroom right here and remember, you can also get outside through that door over there." He pointed at the French doors behind the sofa. "In the morning you can either make your way around to the front on the outside, or if you prefer climb up the stairs again. Your choice."

"That's cool. Just bring my stuff, please."

"Sure, no problem." JJ disappeared up the stairs and moments later reappeared with Jake's folded chair, sheets, blankets and a pillow under one arm and the pack under the other. "Do you need anything else?"

"No thanks I can manage from here. When we go shopping tomorrow, we'll have to find a medical and orthopedic supplies store. I need to get some stuff before we go to Whistler."

"What do you need?"

"I'll explain tomorrow."

"Sure. Good night Jake. I'll check you in the morning."

"Good night JJ and thanks again for everything."

"You're most welcome." JJ said and disappeared up the stairs.

Early the next morning, after Jake had taken a shower and finished his lengthy morning routine, he got dressed. He grabbed the blanket off the sofa and put it over and around his legs. Then he opened the French doors and wheeled outside. Even here in San Diego is was below freezing and since he couldn't feel his legs getting cold he had to be careful to maintain his body temperature. He didn't want to run into any medical issues before he even got into the snow.

He just sat there for a while, staring at the arid soil. The sky was cloudy but then the clouds shifted and rays of the first hazy early morning sunlight hit the ground. Ice crystals had formed on top and the light reflected in them made it look like the yard was strewn with tiny diamonds. To Jake it was an image of fascinating beauty.

He tried to imagine what it would look like if it wasn't so barren and the view was not limited by the six foot palisade fence at the back of the property and the neighboring houses that were surrounding it like a second, even higher wall. Building density was so high that unless you went out to the coast the horizon was commonly out of sight.

Jake thought about Venezuela. He hadn't really gotten to see much of it. But just the fact that not literally every square foot of land was either spoiled and uninhabitable or used for housing of some sort, roads or other engineered objects, was in stark contrast to the continental US. He wondered what it would have been like to live at a time when the population density had been a few people per square mile and man shared the world with plants and wild animals.

These days only a few recreation areas with any real indigenous vegetation remained; environmental biospheres, carefully controlled and nurtured by people like Tom to maintain the last remaining bits of bio-diversity. And even inside these domes they were fighting a losing battle against the onslaught of too many people trampling the grounds without regard. And outside the noxious air that poisoned plants, animals and humans alike.

It was still early in the morning and in the crisp cold air it was still possible to be outside without a breathing kit. In no more than an hour the amount of ozone, sulfurous compounds and other pollutants in the air would have reached a level were being outside without an exopack for any extended period of time would be at least uncomfortable, if not downright dangerous.

Jake heard steps behind him and twisted in his chair to see who it was. JJ stepped up to him with two mugs of coffee. He handed Jake one of them and sat down on the ground besides him. "What are you doing out here in the cold?"

"I like being outside without having to wear a rebreather and it's a nice place for thinking."

"That's what you've been doing, thinking?"

"Yup, it kinda comes with the territory. I feel I'm turning into Tommy—Now isn't that an ironic reversal of roles? Tommy is going off to play hero of the rain forest and I'm turning into the thinking type. Next thing I might sign up for a university degree."

"That may not be such a bad thing. You're certainly smart enough. You should think about it some more."

They sat next to each other in silence, sipping their coffees. When he was finished, JJ got up. "Come on let's get back inside. I'm freezing my butt off—literally"

"Sure. Let's go around the front then. Lead the way."

JJ strode off and Jake followed up the gradient to the front of the house. Half way JJ turned back to Jake. "Struggling?"

"Nah, and even if I was, what's one more challenge in a day filled with hundreds of challenges I didn't even know existed a few month ago."

They had arrived at the front door. JJ opened and they entered, passing through the entrance area into the spacious, open plan kitchen. In the middle of the room was a kitchen island with a sink and prep space.

Jake rolled around the island to the side with the sink. "Look here for example. It's a real challenge for me to use this kitchen sink. The counter is too high and there are cupboards below, so I have to put the chair sideways. I can reach the back of the sink and turn on the water with my right hand now, but at the same time I can barely reach the bottom of the sink with my left. If I had to use this sink to prepare food, I would have to sit on the counter next to it. That's what I mean with challenges".

"Hey, let me try."

"Sure." Jake turned the chair so that he was facing the counter next to the sink. He locked the brakes and put his hands on the counter in front. "This height difference is about the most I can manage." He pushed himself up on his arms and then, like a gymnast on a pommel horse shifted his weight over one arm to allow himself to rotate his body onto the counter. "I have some motility in my quads. Not enough to stand up, but it helps with stuff like this"

"What does that mean?"

"It means that I have a very limited ability to contract the muscle in the front of the thigh. That helps me push ever so slightly against the chair. It also gives me a little bit of feedback about the position of my lower body, but for the most part it's VFR." Jake grinned.

"Visual Flight Rules?"

"Means I have to look at my legs to know where they are".

"Ah, I see." JJ had turned the chair and was now sitting down in it. He started rolling around the kitchen block getting caught on the corners.

Jake was laughing at him from above.

JJ came around and tried his luck with the sink. "I see what you mean about the sink. This is really awkward and I'm even taller than you". He got up again. "That was educational."

He pushed the chair back in front of Jake who maneuvered it into the right spot and climbed back down. "I like it up there; better view."

JJ laughed. "Let's have some breakfast and then go and run our errands." JJ took a quart-sized pack of synthetic liquid egg protein from the fridge and started making omelet.

Jake watched him for a while. "Where are the kids?" It had finally occurred to him how quiet the house was.

"Nora took them with this morning and dropped them off at her mom's. That's easier for her while I'm away." He paused. "I was thinking about the order of things this morning. I think we should do the shopping first and pick up your truck last. That way you have time to practice and we don't have to rush off anywhere."

"Good thinking."

While they were eating their eggs washed down by copious amounts of more coffee, JJ asked "So what do you need from the medical supplies store?"

"You sure you want to talk about this during breakfast?"

"You know I'm not the squeamish type. So what?"

"I need to get some more catheters and I want to get two knee braces, just in case. You know, like the one you velcro over your pants you used after you had your knee surgery? Just to make sure I don't tear any more ligaments if I hit something legs first. I had to jump through some major hoops to get my knee fixed and I would like to avoid a repeat of that—try jumping through hoops in a wheelchair sometimes; new circus act." he added with a mischievous grin. "Plus if they found out how it happened they would probably decline it outright. The braces will make sure my knees bend in the right direction and not sideways."

"So the veterans association's saying that because you can't walk they won't pay for knee surgery because you aren't using your knees in the first place? That's just so screwed up."

"The coffers are empty JJ, they are cutting benefits left, right and center. It's cheaper for them to put me out to pasture with that measly vet pension and lifelong medical benefits for my '_chronic condition'_, plus training up some new grunt to take my place than to fix my back."

"It's still not right."

"Once I've settled down in Denver I'll decide what kind of job I'll get into. I'd go insane if I don't have anything to do."

JJ noted the odd segue and just nodded. Then he said. "Okay let's go and do our shopping. There's gear at the chalet. So I figure we'll only need proper clothes. Patagonia, LLBean, Straz, Target or Wallmart—any preference?"

"Patagonia—let's live a little."

JJ broke into a grin. "I like your style."

They spent the morning shopping. Jake explained that he was lucky because his body temperature regulation was largely unaffected by the injury, he just needed to make sure his legs wouldn't get too cold. Jake bought black snow boots, thermal socks and ski pants, thermal underwear, and a black ski jacket, gloves, a beanie and a bright red scarf. At the medical supplies store they picked up the braces and catheters and Jake ignored the probing questions of the assistant who was trying to figure out what Jake wanted two walking braces for. Jake was glad to escape from the store.

Last they drove over to the Tesla dealership where JJ had taken Jake's truck. As they pulled into the parking lot, JJ looked at Jake and asked, "have you figured out how to mount your steed, yet?" All morning JJ had been lifting Jake in and out of his truck and Jake had to admit that so far he hadn't been able to come up with a clever plan how to manage to get into a vehicle as high as his on his own.

"No, to be honest, this one still beats me at the moment. But I'm sure there'll be a way. Just more or less time-consuming and or dignified." He grinned.

They parked. JJ got out and got Jake's chair. Then he helped Jake down out of the truck again. They entered the show room and one of the sales people who seemed to recognize JJ got up and walked towards them. "Hello, welcome." He nodded at JJ then addressed Jake. "You must be Jake Sully." He extended a hand. Jake shook it.

The sales man carried on. "I'm Sean Crawford, follow me." He led them through the show room into a large covered parking space which extended into service bays in the back. Technicians were working on various vehicles. Jake's black truck was parked off to the side. Jake felt a profound sense of satisfaction at the sight of his own vehicle and the additional freedom it would offer, combined with an unsettling amount of anxiety about how he was going to manage. They stopped on the driver's side. Jake regarded the door of his truck.

"Wait, here." Crawford handed Jake the keys. Jake noticed a new remote on the ring. "I'll leave you guys to play with it. You're lucky to have a friend like this." He turned and left them.

Jake looked at JJ, perplexed. "What was that about and what is this for?" Jake held up the remote.

JJ knelt down next to Jake bracing himself against the truck. "Jake my brother, I got you a little something extra—I just didn't want you struggling. And in a way, you lost your legs for my truck—metaphorically speaking—so I wanted to give you some of your mobility back, you know, independence. This just gives you a bit more of it." He got up and pointed to the remote in Jake's hand. "Press the unlock button."

Jake didn't say anything, but his expression was clouded. He wasn't certain how he felt about what JJ had just said. The emotion seemed to hover at the edge of anger, but at the same time Jake acknowledged that JJ's behavior and attitude had been devoid of pity so far. He decided to resist judgment. Nonetheless his lips compressed into a thin line, and JJ regarded him wearily, obviously attuned to and prepared for Jake's less than gracious reaction.

Jake pressed the button. The door unlocked.

"Now press the one with the door icon on it."

Jake pressed that one and the driver side door swung open. He peered into the cab. The driver seat had been replaced with one that looked like a race car bucket seat.

"Press the button with the down arrow."

Jake did as told and the entire seat slid out towards him and then down to the level of the running board—level with his wheelchair. Jake slid across onto the seat.

"The seat swivels when it is lowered. Look over here." JJ pointed to something behind Jake's back.

Jake rotated the seat so that he was now facing away from the truck. JJ was pointing at a mechanism that would hold Jake's folded chair behind the seat. Jake leaned forward, folded up the chair and lifted it against the mechanism. Grappling arms extended locking the chair firmly into place against the seat. Jake rotated back towards the driving position and pulled his feet onto the foot rest. He pressed the up arrow. The seat rose, slid into the driving position and locked into place. The grim look on his face had been replaced with a look of speechless wonder, like a five-year old exploring a new toy. The seat even came with a racing harness seat belt.

Jake looked at JJ. "This is cool." He had decided to accept the gift for what it was—another piece of assistive technology—like his chair. His wheelchair had become a part of him. He had accepted it like others might accept a permanently attached prosthetic limb, integrating it as a natural part of their being. He had decided that JJ's gift was not a reparation driven by a guilty conscience to make up for his disability, but an expression of true brotherly love; a full acknowledgment of Jake's abilities and potential. "Come on JJ, let's take her for a spin."

While JJ got in on the passenger side, Jake adjusted the seat position and mirrors, then pressed the starter button and put the truck into drive. He tentatively tested the accelerator and then the brake hand controls. They seemed rather intuitive to him. He drove out into the yard and stopped to put the harness restraints on. "JJ you cannot imagine what it feels like to drive again."

"I'm glad you're enjoying it. I really wasn't sure how you would take the additional modifications."

"I love it." A big grin on his face. "You know what JJ, from any other person it would have felt like a slap in the face. I can't stand this 'I'm so sorry for you litany', but you aren't and I'm really, really glad about that." Jake put the truck in drive again. He pulled out into the road and drove around the block. After a couple of minutes he pulled back in.

Before JJ got out to walk back to his own truck he turned to Jake. "It's all settled already. Your insurance picks up part of the bill and I have covered the rest so let's go straight home."

"JJ that must have cost you a fortune, how will I ever make this up to you?"

"Simple—by being all that you can be." He got out and walked to his vehicle. When Jake pulled into the road behind JJ, a single unbidden tear rolled down his cheek.


	8. Whistler, BC, Sat 17 Dec 2146

Whistler, BC, Sat 17 Dec 2146

The cargo plane had landed in Seattle just after midnight, but they had to wait till the morning until they could get a rental car. They had slept in one of the crew quarters inside the airbase and in the morning an acquaintance of JJ's had given them a lift into town. They had rented a Jeep and set out towards Whistler.

Once they had crossed the border into Canada and left the area of Vancouver behind, they had commented on the distinct differences between the overpopulated continental US and the still relatively open countryside along the Canadian Rockies. While in the US any land was either built on or uninhabitable due to some sort of contamination—nuclear, chemical or whatever else could turn open space into a barren wasteland, the Canadian government had made a point of keeping this part of the country in a tourist-friendly condition. Resorts like Whistler made a killing since they had installed large numbers of industrial size air scrubbers to allow the visitors to spend time outside without wearing rebreathers or exopacks. On wind free days they worked well, but all over the resort were public air monitoring stations and when the wind brought in the pollutants from the not-too-distant mega-cities like Seattle and Vancouver, the monitoring stations' red warning lights would light up and people would either don their rebreathers or retire inside.

This luxury of fresh air had its price though. Without JJ's connections Jake would have certainly not been able to afford a trip like this on his vet pension alone. They had arrived in Whistler around midday and settled down in the chalet. It wasn't entirely wheelchair-friendly, with all the bedrooms being up a flight of rough wooden stairs, but the lower level had an open-plan kitchen, a lounge with a large sofa that Jake had now requisitioned, a bathroom and a conservatory that ran the entire side of the chalet with large sliding glass doors which opened onto a sun deck. On one side inside the conservatory was a Jacuzzi set into a wooden platform, one step up from the tiled floor. Several deck chairs were lined up facing the glass doors, providing a place to rest and enjoy the view across the valley.

The water was steaming and bubbling and condensation was covering the windows. In some places droplets had formed and were running down the glass. It was dark outside now except for some distant lights, refracted into indistinguishable patterns through the drops and haze.

Jake emerged from the bathroom, naked except for the towel he had tied around his waist. He was out of his wheelchair, sitting on the floor, his back towards the lounge. He propelled himself across the floor by leaning backwards, placing his arms behind him then pushing himself up so that his torso swung back pulling his legs after him.

JJ watched the spectacle from the kitchen counter and mused about the efficiency of this form of movement. "A crab's got nothing on you, Jake," he said towards Jake's back. Jake stopped and turned his head and upper body to look at JJ, grinning. "Any faster and I'll get carpet burns on my heels." He resumed his trek past JJ towards the Jacuzzi. JJ kept watching while preparing Mojitos. He noted the stark contrast between Jake's defined upper body musculature, particularly his prominent chest, shoulders and traps and his bony legs; the thin muscles without any tone or shape. He thought of the hours they used to spend at the gym together and the diligent work Jake used to put in to tone his calf muscles and thighs; squats, donkey raises and so forth, while forever complaining that he thought his legs were too thin. It broke JJ's heart. On the surface, however, his face betrayed none of these thoughts.

Jake sidled up to the Jacuzzi and stuck one hand into the water. "Perfect," he muttered. He grabbed his left leg under the knee and placed it into the water. Then he moved the other, sitting on the edge of the Jacuzzi.

JJ, wearing the same attire, walked up behind Jake with their drinks. He looked at the long scar that ran half way up the middle of Jake's back from the sacrum. He walked around the tub and sat down in the water opposite Jake passing him his drink.

"Does that scar bother you sometimes?"

"Do you mean, does it give me sleepless nights because I don't stand a chance at beauty pageants any longer?" Jake laughed and so did JJ. "Of course not."

"You know that's not what I'm asking."

"No, the scar itself doesn't bother me—my lower back still gets sore easily, but the Jacuzzi helps." Jake pushed his feet over the edge of the seat surface they were resting on, untied the towel and lowered himself into to the bubbling water. He leaned back and closed his eyes. "Outstanding."

JJ kept watching Jake. He wondered when Jake would crash and how bad it would be. However well Jake was doing now, JJ knew that his friend's self-confidence had taken a severe knock and that if he didn't manage to redefine his purpose in life, sooner or later he would hit a severe low. He hoped that when the time came, Jake wouldn't shut him out and that he himself wouldn't be deployed to some remote backwater unable to be around to help Jake pick up the pieces.

He wondered in which form the drama would unfold that would send Jake down the path of, hopefully temporary, self-destruction; the rejection of a woman or the indifference of the system that accorded no respect to people who, like Jake, had sacrificed more than a fair share of themselves, for a lost cause. Maybe none of the above, but from JJ's experience as a clinical psychologist the crash was inevitable. The more he could help Jake now to construct his new identity, the more he would be able to soften the future blow. He was glad that Jake held on to his childlike curiosity and wonder, that he was still able to see beauty in seemingly innocuous things. JJ knew that his own perspective was far more cynical than Jake's.

Jake opened his eyes and took a sip of his drink. "I really enjoyed our little sleigh adventure earlier."

They had gotten two inner tubes out of the store room and slid down the slope next to the chalet. Not very far, maybe just a hundred yards with JJ pulling Jake back up the mountain on his inner tube after each run. After half an hour or so, JJ had collapsed into a heap next to Jake. They had laughed. Jake had volunteered to take a turn if JJ could find him two ice picks so that he could use those to pull them up the slope. Instead JJ had grabbed a handful of snow, knocked Jake off his inner tube and rubbed the snow into his face. It had turned into a playful snow fight and Jake had eventually managed to get his own back by stuffing some snow down JJ's collar.

JJ took another sip of his drink. "Tomorrow we'll get onto some real slopes. Did you ever ski or snow board only?"

"I skied occasionally, but board mostly."

"Have you ever heard of a sit-ski?"

"No—is that what you have in mind for me?"

"A-huh, there's a school here that rents them and gives lessons. I've booked you in for ten tomorrow morning. You keen?"

"Am I keen? Are you kidding? You're asking an adrenaline junkie who's been cold turkey for four months to pass on a fix? Not in this lifetime." Jake's face was aglow with joy.

"Good. It will be fun. Cheers!" JJ raised his glass.

"Cheers—to friendship."

"No—to brotherhood."

On the second day of his practice sessions, Jake had become proficient enough to venture out onto some more difficult slopes. He was safely strapped into the contraption mounted on a single ski and two short poles with ski-like, articulated ends provided aides for balance and turning. The sit-ski also allowed him and JJ preferred access to the lifts, bypassing some of the longer queues. Jake was elated. After lunch they had found a relatively demanding blue run which tested Jake's new found abilities pretty much to the limit. Around half past three Jake had signaled a time-out to JJ and they had returned to the chalet on the snowmobile which JJ was now driving and Jake was riding shotgun. When they arrived and JJ shut off the engine he felt Jake shaking behind him. JJ got off and one look at Jake's face confirmed that something was amiss. "What's wrong Jake?"

"My lower back has gone into spasm." Strained, his breath was short and flat.

"Okay, just tell me what I need to do."

"Just get me inside first. I need to lie down flat."

JJ picked him up and felt Jake's back arch backwards in his arms. Jake groaned. JJ carried him inside and put him on the sofa. Jake's jaw was clenched and his eyes were screwed shut.

"Get my medical kit from the bathroom." Jake pulled of the beanie, gloves and scarf. He unzipped the jacket, but wasn't able to sit up and take it off. He rolled over onto his stomach. That made the effect of the spasm worse. His back arched and Jake howled in pain and frustration, but he got the jacket off. JJ was already back, medical kit in hand.

"Orphenadrine" Jake struggled through clenched teeth. "two vials—IM."

JJ pulled out the injector vials. The integrated needle was under a twist cap. A ninety degrees clockwise turn locked it in place, activating the delivery mechanism.

Jake had managed to pull up his shirt to expose his lower back and JJ saw the muscles bunched and contracted. Jake was holding against them with his stomach muscles to prevent his back from arching more. He was shaking. "Here!" he pointed into the small of his back.

JJ injected a vial each into the muscles left and right of the spine.

Jake was biting the blanket and his fists were pounding the cushion in front of him.

"Let me turn you over again". JJ grabbed one of Jake's hands and held it tight.

"'k." Jake managed to squeeze in between stifled sobs and groans.

JJ turned Jake onto his back and lay across his stomach to help straighten Jake's back and relieve the strain on the stomach muscles. After a couple more agonizing minutes the injections seemed to take effect. Jake started to relax and his breathing grew steadier. After another 15 minutes the attack had abated.

Jake held his hand out to JJ, exhausted. Sweat was beading his hairline. "I would like to sit up."

JJ took his hand and pulled him into a seated position. Jake reclined against the backrest. He was completely drained.

"I won't be able to move really well for a couple of hours. I'm sorry about this JJ. I should have called it a day earlier."

"No worries, Jake. Nothing to be sorry about. Does this happen much?"

"No." He paused. "I overexerted myself today—just had such a great time. I will have to take it easy tomorrow."

"No worries, Jake. You set the pace—quite a pharmacy you have there. Mind if I have a look?"

Jake shrugged his shoulders "Sure. Go ahead."

JJ pulled out some vials and bottles. He was relieved to see that both a vial of morphine and a bottle of anti-depressants were still unopened. He saw a box of Sildenafil, but didn't comment. Then he held up a half-empty vial of Botox. "I didn't realize you were _that_ worried about your looks."

Jake tried to laugh, but his face contorted into a painful grin instead. The attack had obviously taken its toll on his abdominal muscles, too. "Nothing can improve my looks I'm afraid. I need it to inject my legs every couple of weeks—prevents reflexive spasms, mostly in my lower legs and feet."

"I see."

"JJ, will you get my chair, please?

"Sure. Where do you want to go?"

"Bathroom—Jacuzzi—Sleep."

"How about something to eat?"

"Yeah, that too."

"Okay, I'll order pizzas then."

JJ pushed the chair up next to the sofa. With very slow, deliberate movements Jake had taken off his boots and socks and massaged one of his feet. He unzipped his ski pants but was now struggling to get them off.

JJ regarded Jake thoughtfully. "Can I help?"

"No!" Then he shook his head and leaned against the sofa's back. "Yes, please. My own fault"

"Your own fault what? Just lift yourself up for a moment, can you?"

Jake put both arm over the backrest and levered himself up so that JJ could slide the pants down his hips. "To have gotten myself into this situation—JJ you know I can deal with the paralysis, the pain—I just can't deal with needing help. Why is that?"

"Let's chat about that later in the hot tub. Will you need help in the bathroom now?"

"No, I think I can manage. If not I'll shout, just give me a hand to get into the chair." Jake reached up with both arms to hold around JJ's neck. JJ let him grab on and swiveled him into his chair.

JJ phoned in their pizza order while Jake was in the bathroom. JJ was curious to know what exactly Jake needed to do to deal with the effects of his paralysis, but since he felt that Jake's resistance to being helped was largely due to his perceived as well as factual loss of independence and privacy, he decided not to ask. He went upstairs and called Nora to give her an update on the day's events then changed into dark drawstring pants and an oversized hooded sweatshirt. He walked out of the bedroom and leaned on the banister of the narrow gallery that led to the bedrooms and overlooked the lounge below. He saw that Jake had had a similar idea. He was back in the lounge in his chair next to the sofa, wearing black drawstring pants and was just busy pulling a black, long-sleeved shirt over his head. He still moved with great care and seemed to have trouble keeping his balance. The doorbell rang. Jake turned his upper body towards the sound as he was struggling with his shirt and the movement made him keel over forward. He just managed to brace himself with one hand by grabbing his shin before the momentum carried him out of his chair and onto the floor. JJ laughed involuntarily.

Jake looked up at him, slowly pushing himself back into a seated position. "Very funny." His expression was stony.

The doorbell rang again. JJ started to move towards the stairs, but Jake who had pulled down his shirt now grabbed his phone off the sofa and made his way towards the door. "I'll get this."

Jake opened the door. The kid standing in the light of the porch looked like he was no older than sixteen. His most remarkable feature were his long ginger dreadlocks. "Here's your pizzas. That's 65 creds."

Jake held up his phone next to the reader unit that was integrated into the kid's jacket sleeve. It blinked and the phone screen lit up with the amount. Jake keyed in +10% to add the tip. Then he hit the confirm button. The phone beeped and showed the completed transaction. Jake took the pizzas.

The kid read the confirmation and grinned. "Thanks." He started to turn around, but then he hesitated. Turning back to Jake he said. "I saw you ski earlier today. I think you were awesome."

Jake hadn't intended to be rude, but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. "Wanna switch? Fuck off."

The kid blushed, turned and literally ran back to his snow mobile.

JJ had walked up behind Jake and took the pizza boxes from his lap. "Geez, Jake. You gotta take compliments a bit more graciously."

Jake still holding on to the chair with one hand for balance rubbed his other hand over his face. "I didn't mean to say that. It just slipped out."

"Come let's eat before the pizzas get cold." They settled at the dining table in the lounge. "Why—" JJ started the sentence between taking bites out of a slice of pizza, "did the kid's comment rattle you so much?"

Jake kept staring at the pizza in the carton in front of him, picking at the trimmings. After a while he said, "I noticed him practicing flips and jumps at the ramp while we were having lunch today. He's good. Not as good as I used to be, but good. He's got potential." He pushed the pizza box away and rested his upper body on the table in front of him, his head buried between his arms. "Right now I can't even sit up without falling over unless I hold onto something." He raised his head and looked at JJ. "Why me, JJ? Why me? Why did they shoot at me and not at the others? Why did the carbon fiber shell break when it should have been able to withstand the force of the impact? Why is some fucking bureaucrat assigning some figure to my ability to walk and deems is too high to fix my back? Am I a car after an accident where the cost of the repair exceeds its monetary value and therefore it's written off and sent to the scrap yard?"

The anger was clearly visible on Jake's face. He pushed himself upright again and carried on. "Why am I stuck in this fucking chair when Tommy is going off to Pandora? That was my dream! Why is he taking all my dreams away from me?" He pushed away from the table, spun the wheelchair around and disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

JJ kept looking at the closed bathroom door for a while before he sighed and got up, collecting the uneaten pizza, putting it away in the fridge. Then he fixed himself and Jake a drink, took them through to the conservatory and sat down in one of the deck chairs, waiting for Jake to reappear.

After about half an hour the bathroom door opened and Jake wheeled out, naked except for a towel he had draped over his lap. He rolled into the conservatory and stopped next to the step to the Jacuzzi. "I'm sorry, JJ. I just get so angry at nothing sometimes."

"Anger is good, Jake. I'm sure during your counseling sessions at the VA you were talking about the stages of grief. Anger means you've come a long way already. It is part of the healing process."

"I know," he sighed, "but that doesn't make it any easier." He shot a pained grin a JJ. "Can you please help me into the water today?"

"Sure." JJ got up from the deck chair. He lowered Jake down onto the step and then helped him slide into the Jacuzzi. He walked back to the deck chair, undressed and joined Jake in the tub; drinks in hand. He gave one to Jake. "It wasn't nothing. The kid showed you something you used to be. He showed you something you can't have now. It's like someone stealing your favorite toy. You would be angry about that, too."

"I guess."

"The important part is, though, to express your anger—like you did. That's good, Jake. Don't hold it back. Otherwise it will make you bitter."

Jake leaned his head back and closed his eyes, his arms draped over the edge of the Jacuzzi.

JJ continued. "I think we should find the kid tomorrow and you should apologize to him."

"Is that part of my therapy?"

"You can think of it that way."

"Why would he even want to talk to me now?"

"Maybe he doesn't, but you should still apologize to him—for your sake, Jake, not for his."

"Okay. I guess that makes sense."

The next day they had a slow start. Jake still felt sore, but the paralytic effect of the medication had worn off and he was able to move more freely again. That certainly improved his mood. Around lunch time they set off to the place where Jake had seen the kid. As the day before, he was there practicing his areal snowboard acrobatics. His dreadlocks made him instantly recognizable despite the helmet he was wearing.

Jake was driving the snowmobile today with JJ in the rear. Jake stopped a little away from the end of the run the kid would come down after his jumps. "I would like to talk to him alone."

"Good. I'll be on that deck over there getting something hot to drink." JJ dismounted and pointed at the sundeck outside the restaurant they had gotten lunch from the day before. "Join me when you're done."

Jake slowly approached the bottom end of the run. After a few minutes the kid appeared on the ramp and did a decent Backside Rodeo 540, a back flip with a 1½ twist. But his landing was none too steady. He almost wiped out but managed to regain his balance. As he stopped to get out of the bindings, he noticed Jake watching from a couple of yards away. Jake waved him over. The kid walked up to him, tentatively.

"That was pretty good, but you need to release the grab a bit sooner. You were still too crouched when you landed. That's why you almost wiped."

"What's it to you?"

"I'm sorry about last night. I didn't mean to be rude. It's just that until about five months ago, I would have been able to do what you just did. Now I can't even stand and I am still trying to get used to that."

"That must be hard." His eyes didn't leave Jake's face.

Jake nodded. He liked the openness he saw in the kid's face; the fact that he didn't seem to be uncomfortable in Jake's presence.

Jake extended his hand. "I'm Jake. What's your name kid?"

"Troy—Troy Kost. My friends call me TBone." He shook Jake's hand. "So you used to do this stuff, too?" He gestured back at the jump behind him.

"Yes, used to is the operative word, I can't show you anymore, but I can still tell you a trick or two. Would you like to join me for lunch?"

Troy shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, why not."

Jake slapped the seat behind him. Mount up, I'll drive us over to the restaurant. Troy got on and Jake turned in a wide arc, eventually pulling up next to the sundeck where JJ was waiting.

Troy got off. "How are you going to get up the stairs? Can you walk with assistance?"

Jake shook his head. "Afraid not, but here comes the Marine Corps." JJ was making his way down the stairs. "JJ meet Troy, Troy this is Captain John Sharpe, but you can call him JJ. Everybody else does."

Troy and JJ shook hands "Nice to meet you, Sir"

"Oh, please drop the Sir straight away. I'm on vacation." JJ turned to Jake. "Ready for the stairs? Sorry, they are pretty icy so I need one hand free. I'm going to put you over my shoulder—cool?"

"Cool." Jake pulled his left leg over the seat so that he was now sitting sideways on the snow mobile, facing JJ. JJ knelt down and Jake leaned forward over JJ's shoulder. JJ took the weight and stood up. He climbed up the stairs and put Jake down on one of the benches. Troy walked up behind them.

Jake grinned at Troy. "See—the Marines are good for something. Have a seat."

Troy sat down across from Jake and JJ disappeared inside the restaurant.

"Do you mind if I ask what happened to you?"

"Do you know what a ram-air para glider is?"

Troy nodded.

"I crashed, broke my back and some other parts."

"Ouch—and that was only five months ago and you are already skiing? That's amazing"

"How do you know?"

"My dad was an incomplete T6. He also used to ski on a sit-ski. That's why I noticed you yesterday."

"And now?"

"He's walking again, but it took a long time for him to get the treatment approved. So he spent two years in the chair, but back then he could still walk with assistance—and you?"

"Complete L1." A pained expression flashed across Jake's face.

"Are you also fighting with the insurance to get the treatment approved?"

"No, they have already closed the book on me." Jake sighed.

"I'm sorry, man, that sucks."

Jake found that he could tolerate and accept that expression of empathy. Like JJ, Troy was not displaying any form of uneasiness or pity in Jake's presence. He liked the kid.

"Thanks, Troy. I appreciate that."

JJ walked back to the table with menus. He had been close enough to hear the last exchange, so he nodded approvingly at Jake then sat down next to Troy. "I've ordered us some hot chocolates so long." He handed over the menus. "Pick what you like, Troy. Lunch is on me."

"Thanks." Troy studied the menu. Then he addressed Jake. "You seem to know quite a bit about snowboard acrobatics. How so?"

"That's all I did for more than three years. Got me kicked out of high school, too." He grinned. "I came second three years in a row at the US National Junior Championships."

JJ raised an appreciative eyebrow "You never said."

Jake shrugged. "It wasn't important. I never won."

"So why did you stop?"

"Training for the fourth season I wiped out one day. Broke my left arm badly, shattered elbow and humerus, broken collar bone and dislocated shoulder. Almost bankrupted my dad and got him kicked out of his medical plan; it was so expensive to fix me up. So he forced me to stop and go back and finish high school."

The waiter arrived with their hot chocolates and took their lunch orders.

JJ looked at Jake quizzically. "I never noticed any scars on your arm."

"You wouldn't. After they took out all the metalwork I had the scars revised. Didn't want to give the Marine Corps a reason to reject my application because of an old injury."

Troy studied Jake for a moment. "Are you a Marine, too?"

"I am, I mean I was. I was discharged two weeks ago. I still can't think of myself as a civilian."

"Then it must be twice as hard for you."

Both Jake and JJ looked at Troy in surprise. Jake spoke "How would you know?"

"My cousin is a Marine." Troy didn't offer any additional explanation. Instead he changed the subject. "Can you teach me some of the more advanced jumps?"

"I won't be here long enough for that and hopefully by tomorrow I can get back on the slope myself again."

"Understand."

"What I suggest is that if you are serious about this find yourself a local pro to train you. Then send me video and I'll comment on your jumps and tell you some additional tricks."

"Thanks that would be great."

Jake gave Troy his email address. Their food arrived and they carried on chatting throughout lunch. When they were done Troy excused himself, keen to get back on the slope to try out some of the advice Jake had given him.

"Nice kid." Jake was propped on his elbows. "Let's go back home, my back is taking strain from sitting without support for so long.

"Sure, I authorized the bill earlier already, when I was inside, so let's go."

The sundeck was much more packed now than when they had arrived. JJ walked around the table and put Jake over his shoulder again. They drew some astonished looks from other patrons. Jake tried to ignore them.

Back at the chalet Jake took off his snow gear and went to lie down. "You can go board if you want. Try out some of those double-black diamond runs for me that I won't be able to do."

"Thanks. You need anything before I go? I'll probably be back in an hour and a half, two hours or so."

"No I'm cool. Take your time. I'll probably be asleep while you're away anyway."

"Cool. Catch you later." JJ pulled the door close behind him.

Jake listened to the sound of the snow mobile pulling away, then rolled over on his stomach and was asleep as soon as his head hit the cushion.

When he woke up it was dark. He commed the lights. "Lounge. Lights. Dim Fifty Percent." The lounge lights came on. He reached for his cell phone to check the time; eighteen twenty. Then he turned onto his side and pushed himself up into a seated position. "JJ?" No response. He got into the chair and went to the bathroom. When he came back out sometime later, he had changed into his black drawstring pants and black shirt again. He heard the snow mobile pull up outside.

JJ came through the door carrying several grocery bags and six-packs of beer. "Sorry I'm only back now, Jake. Thought I'd get some groceries while I'm at it."

"No worries mate. I only just got up a few minutes ago anyway." Jake rolled up to the kitchen counter and looked at the amount of supplies. "Are we having a party or something?"

"Huh? Not a party strictly speaking, but I ran into Troy again this afternoon. We had another chat and I invited him over for supper. Turns out he's nineteen though he looks like sixteen if you ask me, but he showed me his ID when I said I didn't believe him. He's not working tonight. I hope you don't mind."

"No, that's cool. What time is he coming?"

"Seven thirty. So I guess I better start cooking, soon." He pulled a cold beer out of the fridge. "Want one?"

"Yes. What are we having for supper?"

JJ gave Jake a beer. "Vat-grown beef steak, real fried onions and mushrooms, baked potatoes, salad."

"Geez, what a feast. That's a step up from the ordinary. What happened to spirulina patties and veggie-flavored tofu? Where they suddenly out of stock?"

"No, we are celebrating."

"Celebrating what?" Jake was at a loss.

"I got a message from the promotions board today. My promotion to Major has gone through." JJ was grinning. "And the best thing is I can stay at Pendleton for the time being."

"Congratulations. That's definitely worth celebrating."

While JJ started preparing their food Jake got back onto the sofa. For the first time since they had arrived Jake switched on the TV. "Lounge. TV. On".

JJ threw him a remote from the kitchen counter. "Here—easier to change channels with this."

Jake flipped through the channels. News, sports, movies, nothing seemed to capture his attention. He watched a few minutes of an old war movie, a group of soldiers advancing on a ridge, but when shots rang out and explosions filled the screen Jake flinched and changed the channel again.

The 3D picture showed a scene of mountains floating in the sky like over-sized balloons. "… to the unique magnetic properties of Pandora and the high quantity of a superconductor embedded into the rock, these mountain formations float in constantly changing patterns up to several hundred meters high in the Pandoran athm…" Jake hit the off button on the remote.

"Hey, that was interesting. Why did you switch that off?" JJ inquired.

"I don't want to know, JJ. I am never gonna go there now, am I? I just don't want to know." Jake was pinching the bridge of his nose again. As JJ had learned, it was a sure sign that Jake was trying to keep tears in check.

"It's okay Jake. Let go. Grieve for the fact that this dream of yours was broken along with your back. There will be other dreams for you. You just haven't dreamed them yet."

Jake grabbed the pillow and stuck his head into it. He let himself fall over onto his side and sobbed. JJ let him be.

A knock on the door announced the arrival of Troy. JJ who was busy preparing salad now, looked up at Jake who was still lying on his side though the flow of tears had stopped. His face was flushed. Pushing himself up, he pulled the chair closer. "Just let me get into the bathroom." He moved across and disappeared into bathroom as JJ walked to the door to let Troy in.

"Hey, Troy."

"Hi, JJ." he looked around "Where's Jake?"

"Bathroom, he'll be out in a few." He opened the fridge. "Beer?"

"Yeah, thanks." He took the beer JJ handed him. Turning around he took in the layout of the chalet. "This is a really nice place. Is it yours?"

"No, but it's in the family. Have been wanting to come here and make use of it for years, but you see, it took for my best friend to break his back to actually make it happen."

"How's Jake dealing with it? I know how hard it was for my dad and he at least had the prospect of walking again."

"So-so. It's still very early days. Mostly he's doing ok, but sometimes something sets him off and he gets angry, like with you yesterday evening, or he bursts into tears. I suppose your dad went through that, too."

"Yeah, he did."

"Then you know how to handle it?"

"Yeah, show empathy but not pity. Our whole family received counseling after my dad's accident three years ago."

"Good. Dealing with people is still difficult for Jake. Especially 'cause he's not getting any support from his own family."

"Oh. I'm glad you're there for him, then."

The bathroom door opened and Jake rolled out. "Hi Troy, nice of you to join us for supper."

"Thanks for the invite. I hope you don't mind if I pick your brain some more about snowboarding, do you?"

"No, that's cool. Did JJ tell you what he's celebrating?"

"Oh, we are celebrating? I thought it was just regular supper."

"He's climbing the ladder. He's going to be promoted to Major next month."

"Wow. Congratulations." Troy extended his hand to JJ who shook it.

"I don't know about you Troy, but I'm gonna make myself a bit more comfortable till JJ's done cooking. I'm going to sit out there." He pointed towards the conservatory. "Wanna join me?"

"Sure."

Jake rolled up to the fridge, got a beer and then made his way out into the glass-enclosed veranda. Troy followed him.

Jake pulled up next to the deckchair closest to the Jacuzzi. Troy took the next one over and sat down. He watched Jake maneuver himself into the deck chair with open curiosity but he didn't stare nor did he look away pretending not to notice.

"Are you comparing notes?" Jake asked.

"Yes. You could say that. You actually move really well. Even though my dad's lesion was incomplete he didn't move with as much grace as you do. Probably because his abdominals and back muscles didn't work so well."

"I would hardly call myself graceful, but thanks anyway." He took a few sips of his beer. "And how is your dad moving, now?"

"He's pretty much back to normal. It's been a year since the surgery. He still gets tired pretty quick, but otherwise everything is working again."

"Your dad's very lucky."

"Why are they not fixing your spine?"

"In my case it's not so easy. I lost two vertebrae, L1 and L2. They were completely fragmented and in L1 the cord was completely shredded and all the descending peripheral nerves were transected, too. I saw the MRI. It looked like that part of me had been through a blender."

"Hectic."

"So they had to clear out all the fragments and make some new custom vertebrae for me. About two inches of nerve tissue are missing so it couldn't be reconnected. It would have to be re-grown first. Technically it's possible, but it's insanely expensive and the whole process would take about two years or so. It's not covered under my benefits. So case closed."

"So what are you going to do now?"

Jake looked a Troy for a long time, then he sighed and said "I wish I knew, kid, I wish I knew."

JJ appeared in the door. "How would you like your beef steaks?"

Troy looked at him almost embarrassed. "Uh, I don't know. I've never had real beef steak before."

"Ok, I'll do yours medium then; and you Jake?"

"Rare, please."

"Consider it done—ready in five."

After dinner they retired back into the conservatory. JJ had even bought a pack of cherry flavored cigarillos to celebrate his promotion. They all settled back into the deck chairs, enjoying their cigarillos in silence. The only sound was the faint humming of the Jacuzzi pump, the bubbles were switched off.

"How about a dip in the Jacuzzi?" JJ offered to Troy.

"I'd like to try that. Something else I've never done before." Troy got up and walked over to the hot tub sticking his hand in. "Wow—it's hot."

Jake laughed. "Jeez—this evening is really an education for you, kid."

Troy blushed. "Sorry, but my family is not so well off."

Jake felt instantly foolish. "Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you or your family; I couldn't afford these things neither."

Troy relaxed. "No offense taken."

JJ got up. "I'll get us some towels."

Jake started to undress. He stripped off his shirts and pants. Then he slid forward on the deck chair till he had cleared the arm rests and put his feet on the floor so that he now sat facing the Jacuzzi, his back to Troy. There he waited for JJ to arrive with the towels.

Troy had undressed and walked around the Jacuzzi to the other side. He slid into the hot water. "That's a hectic scar you have on your back. Are you going to have that revised like on your arm?

"No, I think I'll keep it. Not that I can see it in the first place, can I?"

"So?"

This one is different. My arm is perfectly fine. So why should I have a scar indicating that something happened to it at some time in the past? My back is not fine and never will be. I am living with that fact every minute of every day now and I can't hide it so why hide the scar? This is who I am."

"I think that's a great attitude to have."

JJ reappeared and threw a towel at Jake who caught it and tied it around his waist. Then he lowered himself onto the floor and with his crablike, backwards form of movement covered the distance between the deck chair and the pool. He untied the towel again and lowered himself into the water.

JJ distributed another round of beers and got into the water as well. He hit the switch for the bubbles. It was set to low so that the noise would not overwhelm any conversation.

"Cool." Troy had his eyes closed, obviously enjoying the massage provided by the jets in the back of his seat.

"What rank were you, Jake?"

"Corporal. I would have been eligible for promotion to Sergeant next year."

"Hm. I have considered joining, because I like the ethos, _Semper Fi_ and all that, but at the same time I don't like that the military is being used as a political bargaining chip and I don't think that the recent engagements like what went down in Venezuela were justifiable."

JJ could see the emotion play over Jake's face. He knew that Jake was struggling with this particular topic. Troy still had his eyes closed and was unaware of the impact his words had had. JJ stayed quiet to let Jake decide where to take to conversation.

"Troy, I'm sorry. I would prefer not to talk about Venezuela. That's where I crashed. I don't think I can handle this topic gracefully, yet."

Troy opened his eyes and looked at Jake. He'd blushed again. "I'm sorry Jake, for bringing it up. I didn't know."

"No it's cool. We can talk about it some other time, just not—right now."

JJ took over and steered the conversation in a new direction. "How did your dad hurt his back?"

"He works in construction; fell off a scaffold."

"And now?"

"He's back, but working as a foreman now. So he doesn't have to do the heavy work any longer; more of a supervisory position."

"That's good, then."

Jake joined the conversation again. "I also used to work in construction. After I finished high school and until I joined the military—used to drive those big bulldozers. I enjoyed that."

"Where are you from, Jake?"

"From Denver, that's where I grew up."

"Is your family still there?"

"No, my parents are dead and my brother lives in New Jersey, near Princeton."

"And where do you live now?"

"Well," he grinned, "technically, I'm homeless right now. I used to be stationed in San Diego like JJ here, but now I am free to go wherever I want."

"Have you decided, yet?"

"Yeah, I'm going to move back to Denver for the time being."

"Cool. I like Denver. I've been there once to ski at Copper. That was great terrain."

"You're welcome to come visit."

"Why do you have _Born Loser_ tattooed on your arm?"

Jake looked at the tattoo. "Oh, I got that after I had to stop snowboarding competitively, 'cause I never won, always came second."

"So it's not recent?"

Jake laughed. "No it's ancient and it looks like a bit of a home job, too, doesn't it? But I still like it."

Jake pushed himself out of the water and sat on the edge. "Gents, excuse me I'm getting too hot." He tied the towel around his waist and slid back towards the deckchair making himself comfortable by covering up with one of the oversized micro-fleece blankets that were stacked between the chairs. He was almost instantly asleep.

When he woke it was dark in the conservatory except for the faint blue-greenish glow from inside the hot tub. JJ was sitting in the next deckchair. He was smoking another one of the perfumed cigarillos.

Jake stretched his arms up over his head. "Sorry I fell asleep. Where's Troy?"

"He left a while ago. We didn't want to disturb you. You need your beauty sleep."

Jake chuckled "How very considerate of you."

"Have you thought some more about what you're going to do when you get to Denver?"

"Thought about—yes. Have I come up with any great ideas yet? No."

"Why don't you stay in San Diego?"

"Emily." Emily had been Jake's on/off girlfriend for the last three years. They had broken up again just about a month before Jake's deployment to Venezuela. She was still working for a graphic design company in San Diego.

"I don't want to run into her—which would pretty much be inevitable if I stayed."

"You still care about her."

"Yes, I still care about her, but it was her decision to leave and also," he paused, "I don't want her to see me like this." A concerned look appeared on Jake's face. "You haven't told her, have you?"

"No I haven't had any contact with her since she left you. But that doesn't mean that she might not find out some other way."

"I really hope not. I'd rather she remember me like I used to be. I couldn't deal with her now."

"Yeah, she's always been a bit of a spoiled princess."

"Yup, no more spoiled princesses for me then."

"Never say never."

Jake laughed mirthlessly. "Like any woman, let alone a princess, would take a second look at me now."

JJ chuckled. "You'd be surprised, Jake. You'd be surprised."

Jake got back on his sit-ski the next day, but he was more careful not to cause a repeat of the lower back episode. On the final day of their stay, Troy surprised them with an invitation to dinner at his parent's house. Jake was in two minds whether to go, but both Troy and JJ convinced him that it would be good for him to meet new people and so he agreed.

It turned out to be a good evening. Jake actually found that he enjoyed the conversation with Troy's dad Sean. Sean was easygoing and rugged. An outdoors-man like Jake, he found it easy to relate to Jake's experience of confinement. He gave Jake some examples of how he had dealt with the situation without seeming prescriptive or patronizing. At the end of the evening Jake was glad he'd accepted the invitation and realized to his own astonishment that he no longer secretly begrudged the fact that Sean had been given the treatment to walk again.

When they said their final good byes, Sean walked them to their Jeep which they had favored over the snowmobile so they could bring Jake's wheelchair along. After JJ had helped Jake into the car, Sean held the door open for a moment. "Jake, never ever give up hope that one day you also will walk again. You create your own reality. I never stopped believing that for a single moment, despite all the crap the insurance company threw my way. Don't ever give up hope. And if you need someone to talk to you know how to get in touch with me."

"Thanks, Sean. I really appreciate it." And he really meant it.


	9. San Diego, CA, Tue 27 Dec 2146

San Diego, CA, Tue 27 Dec 2146

They had returned to San Diego on the 23rd and JJ had convinced Jake to stay over the holidays, but now he noticed Jake's growing agitation over the possibility that Emily might find out that he was back in town. Jake even kept his phone turned off just in case. Sure enough, on the morning of the 27th when JJ was on duty and Nora was out shopping with her kids, the phone in JJ's house rang. Jake recognized Emily's cell phone number on the caller ID. He ignored the call and decided to leave for Denver the next morning.

At half past six the phone rang again. Before anyone could head him off, Tyler who was sitting at the kitchen counter having a sandwich, had picked up the phone lying on the counter right next to him. "Hello this is Tyler?"

"Hi Tyler, this is Emily. Is your uncle Jake there?"

Tyler held the phone away from him and shouted. "Uncle Jake, phone."

Jake sitting in the lounge with JJ, closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands. He inhaled sharply then dropped his hands again. "I can't talk to her."

JJ was already walking towards his son and took the phone from him. He made sure that the video pickup was switched off.

"Hello?"

"Hello, JJ this is Emily. I saw Jake's truck in your driveway. Can I please talk to him?"

"No, sorry Emily, he doesn't want to talk to you and he doesn't want to see you neither."

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I just said."

"That's so not Jake. What's going on JJ?"

"Nothing is going on. He's just decided that he's had enough of your games. He's about to leave anyway."

"I'm coming over."

"No Emily. He won't be here when you get here."

"Don't lie to me JJ. His truck is parked in your driveway now. I'm on the other side of the road."

"Go away Emily. Just leave it. This won't have a happy ending."

"I'm not leaving until he comes outside and talks to me." She put the phone down.

JJ looked at Jake, exasperated. "Jake I'm really sorry about this, but she is across the road. She says she won't leave unless you talk to her."

Nora came into the room with Chloe on her arm. JJ turned to her "Please take Tyler upstairs and stay there with him. This could turn a bit ugly.

"Sure—come on Tyler. Let's go play with your Christmas presents." She took Tyler by the hand and went upstairs.

"I don't want to see her. Just go and lock the door, please. Otherwise she may be standing in the middle of the lounge any second now."

"Good call." JJ walked to the front door and locked it.

Jake was furious. "Okay. Call her. Tell her I'll talk to her on the phone if she promises to leave straight away and not make a scene."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure." A look of grim determination had appeared on Jake's face.

"Okay." JJ dialed. "Emily—he says he will talk to you if you promise to leave and not make a scene."

"Tell him to come outside and talk to me for two minutes and I promise I will go."

"No, he's not coming out. He'll talk to you on the phone. Take it or leave it or I'm calling the cops"

After a moment's silence she conceded. "Okay."

JJ handed the phone to Jake.

"Emily." His voice was cold.

"Jake. I just want to know if you're okay."

"I'm fine."

"Something is wrong Jake, I know it. Your story doesn't add up. Your unit is still deployed and you are back here in San Diego with a disabled sticker on your truck. What happened, Jake?"

Jake closed his eyes. "I will be fine."

"Jake." Pleading.

"I don't want to talk about it. Do you understand?" The edge in his voice had become more pronounced.

"Jake I am so sorry. I was wrong to leave you. Please can we meet?"

"No, you were right. And for once in your life actually stick with a decision you made. I'll get a restraining order against you if you don't. Now leave!" Jake put as much vehemence into his voice as he could muster, then he put the phone down. He was shaking.

JJ walked to the kitchen window and looked across the road. Emily was sitting forward with her head resting against the top of the steering wheel. Then she sat up, started the engine and pulled off the curb.

Early the next day Jake left for Denver. He had been worried that Emily might be staking out the house so he had sent JJ out to scan the area, but she wasn't there. Before he got into his truck though, Jake pulled off the sticker that had given him away.

Emily's hands were shaking while she was looking for her dad's number on her cell phone. She hadn't been able to sleep for the second night in a row. Jake's anger and refusal to let her in the evening before had rattled her deeply. Sure she had walked out on him; and she had done it twice before, but it had always been a ploy, a way for her to make Jake want her more and to assure herself of his devotion and loyalty. This time it had gone badly wrong however. Instead of being able to get in touch with Jake after a couple of weeks of letting him stew, he had been deployed and was out of reach. She had found out that he had been sent to Venezuela, but that was all she got.

In November she had heard a rumor that Jake had been badly injured and that he was in a hospital somewhere on the East Coast, but however hard she tried, she wasn't able to find out any more details. She had called Walter Reed, but they had stonewalled her. She had sent an email to JJ, but he hadn't responded. She had also written a number of emails to Jake directly, none of them answered and her most recent emails had bounced straight away, indicating that his mail account was over the limit. It seemed like he hadn't checked his email in weeks.

She had fretted and cried and realized that she was no longer in control of their relationship. In the beginning of December she had begun sessions with a psychologist. The counselor had started to help Emily come to terms with the fact that it had been her decision to walk out on Jake. She had made Emily understand that though it may have been a game for her, it hadn't been a game for Jake; that she had really hurt him emotionally and that if the rumors held true and he was indeed physically hurt as well, he might not be able to forgive her for what she'd done. It had been a profound realization for Emily that the brashness that Jake had sometime displayed was not a sign of strength, but instead a carefully constructed shell, hiding his vulnerability from her. She had just started to come to terms with the possibility that Jake would never come back to her, but only just.

It had come as a complete shock when she had seen Jake's truck in JJ's driveway, driving past his house on the way to her friend Corinne on Boxing Day. The bright blue disabled sticker on the back of the black truck next to the Marine Corps crest had jumped out at her and confirmed her worst fears. The whole day she had been distracted and fidgety and eventually she had left Corinne earlier than she had originally planned. The truck had still been there when she drove past again later that afternoon and the whole night she had lain awake trying to make up her mind what to do.

The next day she had tried to call. At JJ's house nobody had answered the phone. She had tried Jake's cell phone multiple times, but every time it went straight to the unavailable message and wouldn't accept any voice mails neither.

"Hello Emily." Her dad finally answered the phone.

"Dad." Her voice was shaky. "Jake is back and he's hurt and he won't talk to me."

"Hmm. And what do you expect me to do about that?"

"Nothing. I don't expect you to do nothing, but can I come over and talk to you?"

"Sure. I'm out right now, but I'll be back home at noon. I'll expect you then."

"Thank you Dad, see you then."

Emily's relationship with her father Franklin was not without problems. He had been openly critical of her relationship with Jake; not of Jake, her dad was a retired Marine Colonel himself, but of his daughter, of her egoistic behavior and attitude towards it. She hadn't told him yet about her visits to the psychologist. She hadn't told him yet that she'd come around to see his point, that she was even ashamed of her spoiled brat behavior. Today she would come clean. She had asked her father if he could find out what had happened to Jake and she was pretty sure he knew, but he had refused to share the information. She hoped that he might give her some news today.

She got into her car and set out towards her dad's apartment in Laguna Beach. She would be early, but she was restless and wanted to get out of the house. Her dad had given her the entry code to his place. She would wait for him there. As expected he wasn't back yet when she arrived. She got a diet coke out of the fridge and settled down on the sofa to wait. Just after twelve Franklin walked through the door.

"Hi Emily."

She got up from the sofa and hugged him. "Hi Dad."

She walked back to the lounge suite and sat down on the sofa again. Her Dad sat down on the armchair next to it.

"So what do you want to talk about?"

She leaned towards him. "Dad, I was wrong. It was wrong what I did to Jake. I realize that now. I have been seeing a psychologist and she's helped me realize what I did. Dad, I'm sorry." The words just burst out of her like floodgates opening.

"I'm glad Emily. I've been trying to tell you that for a long time."

"Yes, I know." She cowered for a moment as if weighed down by her father's words. Then she sat up again. "Dad, I spoke to Jake yesterday, he's at JJ's house. He says he's fine, but he's got a disabled sticker on his truck and he won't tell me what happened. He said he's going to get a restraining order against me if I don't leave him alone."

Franklin noted that her tone of voice was different. It no longer had the accusatory quality to it she used to employ when listing Jake's supposed transgressions to justify her latest actions. Instead she sounded rather dejected. To Franklin it was a sign of hope that his daughter's change of heart was real.

Emily paused, waiting for a comment, but Franklin didn't say anything. "What must I do, Dad?"

"Leave him alone."

"But I love him Dad, whatever happened I want him back."

"Emily do you want my honest opinion?"

"Yes, that's why I came here."

"There is only one way you can possibly achieve that."

"How?"

"You have to learn to respect him. You have to respect his wishes. You have to show him that you take him serious. That whatever you do, you do for him and not for yourself."

"So you're saying I shouldn't try to contact him again." Her eyes started to brim.

"Not for a while. I think that is your only option at this point in time."

"How long a while do you think?"

"Until you have a good reason to contact him again."

"And what reason could that be?" She was still on the verge of tears.

"His birthday, maybe."

"But Dad, that's eight months from now!"

"And when you eventually do contact him, you can't push him. He will only come back to you if he wants to, not if you are trying to badger him into it."

"But Dad, why so long?"

"Emily, Jake has got other problems to deal with at the moment. You need to give him time."

"So you did find out what happened to him?"

He nodded. "Yes, and I think you should carry on seeing your therapist so that when the time comes you are really sure of what you want and you understand what will be best for both of you."

"Dad, what's wrong with Jake?"

"Emily—Jake is paralyzed from the waist down."

Emily burst into tears.


	10. Denver, CO, Fri 31 Mar 2147

Denver, CO, Fri 31 Mar 2147

Jake was sitting on his bed with his laptop in front of him on an adjustable tray so that he could modify the angle of the computer however necessary. He was working on an assignment for the engineering degree had had recently started. To his own surprise he found that he enjoyed studying. School had been a bad experience that he didn't care to remember, but now he was studying weapons design and robotics and found that it was actually fun and easy for him.

Jake shifted himself into a different position. However he sat or lay today, he just couldn't get comfortable. Pain-wise it had been a bad day. His back had been sore yesterday already so he had opted to sleep on his back for a change. It hadn't helped and this morning when he had woken up the pain had been worse. He checked the log he kept of the pain medication he had taken over the last months. March had actually been a good month, certainly better than February. On many days he had only taken a comparatively mild oral painkiller and anti-inflammatory like diclofenac, only on three occasions had he taken something stronger and until today he hadn't had the need for an injection. He checked the time, it was a quarter past five.

He put the computer aside and slid off the bed into his chair. He moved slower and more deliberate than was normal for him now, trying to avoid any sudden movements that may send his muscles into spasm or pinch a nerve. He went to the kitchen and put one of the ready-made meals he had delivered weekly into the microwave. He believed in good food and balanced nutrition, so the diet program and the added supplements he had chosen had become one of his largest monthly expenses, but it was worth it.

He had been to the gym for his daily swim, but he had skipped the weights today to not add additional strain to his back. He figured that had been the cause of the problem. He had overdone the weights two days ago and now he needed to just take it easy for a bit.

He took the food and a bottle of water back to the bedroom. He went to the bathroom and catheterized himself then changed into the leggings he wore to sleep in. He left the T-shirt on he was wearing, one of his Marine Corps shirts with the crest on the front.

Before he got back onto his bed he made sure he had everything he needed within reach so he wouldn't have to get up again for the rest of the day. He moved over, sitting up against the headboard and pulled the duvet over his legs then he injected a dose of meperidine into his deltoid and noted it in his log. One injection this month compared to four in February was definitely an improvement as well.

He ate his food then put the tray with the empty container on the far side of the bed. The injection hadn't taken effect yet and he bent forward stretching, trying to ease the stabbing pain in his back. On days like this he wished he had a bar suspended over his bed like he had had in hospital on which he could have pulled himself up to take the pressure of his spine entirely.

His cell phone rang. Jake checked the display, it was JJ. They hadn't spoken in a while. Jake answered. "Hi JJ." He knew JJ would hear the strain in his voice and see it on his face.

"Hi Jake, bad day?"

"Yes." Jake sighed.

"Physically or emotionally?"

"Physical, but it's the first really bad one this month so overall I'm still getting better."

"I'm glad to hear. Did you take anything?"

"Yeah, I just gave in and injected meperidine."

"And how are you doing otherwise?"

"Actually holding up pretty well. The studying helps. It's more interesting and rewarding than I thought."

"Do you have a study group to meet with now?"

"Yes, but so far we've only met once online. So nobody knows yet…"

"Are you planning to meet in person?"

"Next Wednesday actually. It's kind of a social meeting to get to know each other."

"You gonna tell them before?"

"No, I don't think I will."

"Are you scared of the meeting?"

"I think scared it too strong a word, more like apprehensive."

"Well, let me know how it goes."

"Any words of advice?"

"If you had to characterize yourself in three words, what would they be?"

"Smart, fit, paralyzed."

"And what is number four?"

"Handsome" Jake chuckled.

"Okay, now substitute paralyzed for handsome. That's my advice—don't identify yourself with your disability. When you go and meet with your study group, that's who you are: Jake Sully, smart, fit and handsome. The fact that you are in a wheelchair is just secondary, like the clothes you wear. And I know it may not feel like that for you on the inside, but if you can portray it on the outside then people will find it easier to relate to you and you in turn will find it easier to relate to them. But if they are uncomfortable, don't just ignore it either. Maybe just give them the facts upfront."

"Okay. I'll give it a try."

"You sound a bit better now. Has the painkiller kicked in?"

"Yes."

"Okay, get some sleep then."

"I will, in a while."

"Call me after the meeting with your study group."

"Will do. Cheers JJ and thanks for the call."

Jake put the phone away and got the laptop back. He checked his email. In January when he had opened his email again for the first time since his injury he had simply deleted his entire mailbox. All the unread mail he had received as well as all the messages he had kept. Then he had felt the need to erase his past with this symbolical act. He hadn't even checked who the messages had been from. Today he had only one new message. It was from Si, one of his former recon squad mates, the one that he had been closest to. As far as he knew they were still deployed in Venezuela, but he didn't really want to know. He felt like he had let his squad down. That and all the other painful memories and emotions attached to his last mission made him hesitant to open the message. He saw that it had an attachment. Curiosity won out and he opened the mail.

_Hi Jake,  
we hear very little news about you, only that you are  
out of hospital and out of the Marine Corps as well. That  
stinks, why couldn't they keep you on and find you  
a nice cozy desk job somewhere if necessary? _

_How are you holding up and how are you spending your time anyway?  
Nothing much I can tell you about the job, except that  
we're all still in one piece and still deployed in V where  
nothing much is happening, so in other words – it's boring with a capital B.  
Jeff and Al send their regards, too.  
Jeff found this clip on his phone the other day. We thought you might like it.  
Take care and drop us a line when you feel like it.  
_ _Si_

Jake opened the attachment. It was a video clip of himself and Si playing indoor beach volleyball against two other Marines whose names he couldn't remember. He watched himself play—running on the loose sand, jumping for blocks, diving for the ball, serving, setting and attacking and all the while he and Si were cheering each other on and in the background he heard Jeff and Alan's commentary from the sideline.

As he watched, Jake remembered the feeling of the soft, warm sand beneath his bare feet, felt himself jumping up in the air for the particularly well placed spike that had won them the match. Jake swallowed hard and his eyes were starting to brim and, like so often in the last couple of months, tears were making tracks down his face. He replayed the clip and watched it again. The feeling of constriction in his chest increased and eventually, when Jake couldn't contain it any longer he let out a long, anguished wail. He sobbed and cried and kept replaying the video until the tears finally dried up and he could watch it with a certain amount of detachment—it was like he was watching someone else. This was another Jake, like another twin brother who was elsewhere; hidden behind a wall of grief and pain, some other twin he had lost contact with.

He hit reply, but he couldn't find the words to write back to Si. He discarded the answer, closed the email and shut down the laptop. Then he darkened the room and rolled over onto his stomach, but sleep wouldn't come.


	11. Denver, CO, Wed 5 Apr 2147

Denver, CO, Wed 5 Apr 2147

Jake pulled into the underground parking at the campus of the University of Denver. He was early, but that was intentional. He had only been to the campus once before, as most interactions around his studies were conducted online. Only for the admissions interview had they asked him to come in person.

He had the layout of the campus and buildings on his phone so he wasn't too concerned about finding the cafeteria where he was going to meet the other four students from his study group, but usually one or the other obstacle would present itself somewhere along the way, requiring extra time. Stairs were the worst. Even a curb higher than an inch or two was almost insurmountable. He would have to ask for help or if nobody was around get out of the chair, sit on the ground and lift the chair up. Both options were less than desirable even though, push came to shove, he definitely preferred the latter. If there was one improvement to his condition he really wished for it would be the ability to stand up, even just for a few seconds. If he could just stand, lift the chair up a curb or stair and sit back down even without taking a single step it would make getting around so much easier. For the other Jake stairs had been an opportunity for extra exercise and often he would run up flights of stairs two steps at a time; now they had become the bane of his existence—_I hate fucking stairs_.

Jake's reflection about stairs came to an end when he finally spotted the disabled parking bays in the packed garage. One of the spots was available, but before Jake got close enough a car came down another lane and pulled in right in front of him. The driver got out and walked towards the lifts seemingly without any impediment. Jake pulled up behind him and hooted. He didn't respond. Jake lowered his window and shouted. "Hey!"

The driver turned around. Jake who was about to cuss him out, suppressed his anger and changed his tune when he recognized him as a member of his study group from their previous online meeting. "Hey, you're Steven, aren't you?"

Steve was young, by Jake's estimate probably not even twenty. He started walking towards the truck. "Hi, yes, I'm Steve. Oh, now I recognize you."

Jake stuck his hand out the window. "Jake Sully."

"Nice to meet you. Would you like me to wait till you've found a spot for your truck?"

"Actually I need you to move your car, unless you got one of these." Jake pulled the blue disability parking permit from the dash and held it up into Steve's face.

"Hey nice try man, but that's the oldest trick in the book. You shouldn't be driving a huge black truck like this if you can't get into normal parking spots."

Jake sighed. "Look Steve, I wish it was so, but I do actually need the spot. Jake pulled a blue credit card size ID with his name, picture and disability classification from his wallet and held it up for Steve to see.

"Um, sorry man. I didn't realize. Nobody ever uses these spots for real."

"Well I need to."

"Okay, I'll move."

Jake noted with satisfaction that Steve was at least a little bit embarrassed. "I'll wait for you."

Jake was waiting by the elevator when Steve finally jogged back towards him. When he saw Jake in the wheelchair he slowed down, staring at Jake's legs. Jake bristled under the scrutiny.

"Hey, up here."

Steve looked up at his face.

"Um, sorry man." He was guarded.

Jake sighed. "Just relax, I don't bite."

Steve blushed. Jake hit the elevator button.

"Do you know where the cafeteria is?" Jake asked.

"Yes."

"Any stairs on the way?"

"Don't think so."

"Okay. We'll see."

When they got to the cafeteria, Steve excused himself to go to the library to find some book that for whatever reason wasn't available online. Jake got himself a coffee then found a table towards the back of the cafeteria and moved a chair out of the way so that he could take up position with the wall at his back, able to survey the entire room. He took note of all windows, openings, ways of access and egress, positions for cover, the best sniper positions given the possible scenarios of attack. He sighed. _Old habits die hard._

A while later Steve returned, proudly brandishing the book he had been looking for. One after the other the rest of their group arrived and they did proper introductions. Apart from Steve there were Rick and Marius and a woman called Lisa. All of them were at least a couple of years younger than Jake. All of them had noticed Jake's wheelchair, but no one had made mention of it.

When it was Jake's turn he rolled out from behind the table so that he had more space, balanced on his rear wheels, drove away from them, did a 360 and came back, like a model on a catwalk. Everybody stared. Then while resuming his position at the table Jake addressed the group:

"Let's just get this out of the way, because I can tell it's the big pink elephant in the room. I was a Marine and I am paralyzed from below the waist which means I can't stand up and I can't walk. No, I am not contagious and you can't catch what I have unless you get a big hole blown through your spine like I did, and no, it doesn't bother me if you ask me about it. The only thing I never want to hear from you guys is how sorry you feel for me because that just makes me angry." He looked expectantly around the group. "Any questions?" His eyes came to rest on Lisa who seemed to be the most uncomfortable in his presence. She was looking down at the table. "Lisa?" The intensity of the color on her cheeks increased.

Steve came to her rescue. "How old are you?"

"I'm twenty eight."

"And how long have you been paralyzed?"

"Eight months and five days."

Steve nodded in acknowledgment.

Rick was next. "Did you get shot?"

"No I was shot at while parachuting. It didn't hit me but the canopy. I crashed into a tree and a branch pretty much punched a hole into my lower back."

Lisa finally looked up at Jake. "Did it hurt a lot?"

"Yes, it hurt like hell."

"I'm so sorry." She looked away again.

Jake's mouth compressed into a grim line and he glared at her. "Didn't I just say I don't want your pity?"

"Jake, give her a break," Marius interjected. He put a protective arm around Lisa. "She's trying her best."

"Yeah? Well, her best isn't nearly good enough." Jake stabbed at the table with his index finger in emphasis.

"Come on Jake, don't be an ass," Rick said, trying to defuse the situation.

"Okay." Jake focused on Lisa again. "Try again."

"Oh, come on Jake." Marius again.

"No! I'm happy to work with you guys. I just want to know upfront if you are happy to work with me. I know a lot of practical stuff about robotics and weapons in the field that you guys can benefit from, but if she can't even look at me and get over the fact that I'm in a wheelchair then it's not gonna work. So Lisa, try again."

Lisa looked up at Jake and her cheeks were burning. "I think you're full of shit," she whispered.

Jake's face broke into a grin. "Now that I can live with." He extended his hand towards her. Lisa hesitated for a moment, but when she extended her hand and shook Jake's her grip was firm. She smiled a tentative smile. "Peace?" She offered. Jake nodded.

Jake fielded some more questions then the introductions moved on to the next in the group. When the meeting broke up Jake, Steve and Rick made their way down to the garage together. Lisa and Marius had gone their own ways. As Jake had suspected, the two were dating.

"What do you do in your spare time?" Rick asked Jake when they were in the elevator.

"What I like best is being physically active. I usually spend some hours at the gym every day."

"Wow, I'm surprised."

"Why? I'm not sick."

"Doesn't it bother you to see all the other people at the gym do things you can't do?" This time it was Steve who had asked the question.

They had arrived at the garage level. The elevator doors opened and Jake rolled out. The other two followed him. They watched while Jake got into his truck. He closed the door and lowered the window. "Now that was really a dumb question. You two kids _standing_ next to my truck here—I can't do that. Do I seem particularly bothered to you? Why would it be any different at the gym? I have always been into sports. I first competed at National level when I was thirteen years old. Does it bother you that there are things I can do that you guys can't?"

"Like?"

Jake shrugged his shoulders. "I'm a sniper. Like acquire and hit a moving target at a thousand meters in three seconds for example."

Rick and Steve declined, suitably impressed. They said their good-byes and Jake pulled out of the parking bay.

When he emerged from the garage, Jake hit the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. _Fuck_. It did bother him. It bothered him a lot. All the time; wherever he went. Seeing people do things that he used to be able to do and do much better at that. But as JJ had suggested he wouldn't let himself be defined by his disability in front of other people. However, it brought back the one question for which he hadn't yet found an answer: _Why me?_


	12. Denver, CO, Wed 2 Aug 2147

Denver, CO, Wed 2 Aug 2147

Jake's phone beeped indicating that he had a message. It was from Emily. It was the first time since they had spoken in San Diego that she was contacting him. Jake opened the message. It contained a little animation and read: _Happy 29__th__Birthday. Please call me. E._

Jake closed the message again and checked the time. It was 8:25 and he was still in bed. As was his custom he slept on his stomach, so now he pushed himself up on his side. He reached for one knee and pulled it level with his hip. This way he was lying stable and didn't have to use his arms for balance. It was his birthday. He had tried to ignore the fact. He preferred this day to be indistinguishable from any other day. His first birthday as the new Jake Sully. No technically his second, but a year earlier he had been in hospital in an induced coma, so his previous birthday had passed unrecognized. When he had woken up on the ninth of August a year before, no one had made mention of it. Maybe they thought it tactful—that he wouldn't be able to handle it emotionally or maybe they had simply forgotten. Either way he was glad about it.

He contemplated giving in to Emily's wish. If he was honest with himself, he still missed her. He put the phone down. After a couple of minutes he picked it up again. _Oh what the hell_. He dialed her number.

Emily answered after the first ring. "Happy birthday, Jake and thanks for calling me back."

"Hi Emily, how are you?"

"I'm good Jake. How are you?

"I'm fine.

"Where are you?"

"Don't ask me that."

"Will you please switch on the video feed? I would like to see you."

Jake hesitated a moment then he activated the video. He saw Emily's face appear on the screen of his phone. She looked agitated.

"You look good. Are you ok, Jake? Please tell me what happened."

"I got shot down."

"And?"

"I broke my back and I can't walk anymore."

"Jake, I'm so sorry." She put her hand over her mouth.

"It's okay, Emily. Just remember me how I used to be and thank you for the birthday wishes." He felt his chest constricting, cut the connection and rolled onto his back.

He swallowed a few times to regain his composure and took a couple of deep slow breaths. Seeing Emily just now had crystallized in his mind just how very much he missed her: all he wanted was to hold her and kiss her again. The sense of loneliness and isolation that he often felt became even more pronounced. He admitted to himself that he missed her desperately. Before their last big blow-up that had ended with Emily walking out on him a year earlier he had intended to ask her to marry him. He had bought a ring back then, but he'd never gotten the chance to ask her after all.

He rolled back onto his side, opened the drawer of the nightstand next to his bed and rummaged through the contents, medications mostly, until his hand found the little square box. He pulled it out and opened it. The platinum ring with a single tension-set diamond wasn't ostentatious, but then Emily had never been one for flashy jewelry. He pulled it out of the holder and regarded it. He wasn't sure why he'd kept it and looking at it now rekindled all kinds of buried pains about a life and a future he'd envisioned which now seemed utterly alien to him.

He put the ring back into the holder and placed the open box on top of his nightstand. An edge of the diamond caught the sunlight and refracted a tiny little rainbow pattern onto the white surface. Jake just lay there and looked at the ring and the prism of light. He extended his hand and caught the prism on the back of his fingers then he turned his hand over and cupped the light in his palm. He picked up the phone and called Emily a second time.

"Emily?" His tone of voice was gentle.

"Yes?"

"I'm in Denver."

"Oh, okay that's not so far. What are you doing there?"

"Nothing much. Just trying to get back on my feet."

"You mean rehab? Are you learning to walk again?"

"No, sorry. Bad choice of words. There's no chance of me walking again. I mean I'm trying to find out who I am—now."

"Oh, and who are you?"

"Hmm. I'm not sure. There are some things I do know, though. I'm a civilian, I'm paralyzed and use wheels instead of legs, I work out every day and I'm really fit and—I miss you."

"I miss you too, Jake."

"Despite the paralyzed and the wheelchair part?"

"Yes, despite of that."

"Then I would like to invite you for a visit."

"That would be nice, I would like that."

"Can you make the weekend?"

"I'm sure I can still get a flight for Saturday morning—Thank you, Jake."

"Email me when you've booked the flight."

"Can you fetch me from the airport?"

"I'd prefer if you got a cab. I'll reply to your message with my address."

"Okay. I am looking forward to seeing you."

"Me too." He rang off again.

_Fuck Jake what are you doing?_

He wasn't quite sure what he was trying to achieve by seeing Emily, but despite all his reservations and the slight anxiety that was now spreading in his chest it felt like the right thing to do.

It was ten thirty by the time the phone rang again. It was JJ. "Happy birthday, mate."

"Thanks, JJ. I'm trying to ignore it, but I still appreciate your call."

"Any plans for today?"

"Nah, just the usual; gym, study. If I feel really adventurous then maybe I'll take a drive out to Copper and check out my old stomping ground."

"Sounds like a plan. You need to get out more."

"What I need is a job. Studying is all very nice and good, but I need something more engaging. I've applied for a part-time position with the Denver fire department."

"As what, engine mascot?"

Jake laughed out loud "No, dispatcher. Wish me luck that I get it."

"Sure. I hope it works out."

"Thanks, JJ" He paused for a moment contemplating if he should tell JJ about his earlier conversation with Emily. He decided against it. "How are Nora and the kids?"

"They are great. Chloe is growing like you wouldn't believe."

"I'm happy to hear you are all well. I would love to see you guys again. Maybe towards the end of the year, depending on how things go with the studying and with the job."

"That would be great. You know you can come any time, brother."

"I'll make a plan. Take care, JJ"

"And you, too, Jake and good luck with the job."


	13. Denver, CO, Sat 6 Aug 2147

Denver, CO, Sat 6 Aug 2147

The door chime announced the presence of a visitor. Jake activated the picture-in-picture option on the TV, relaying the image from the door camera. Emily was standing in the entrance airlock in front of his building. She nervously brushed a strand of hair out of her face. Jake's heart was racing. Doubt flooded through him and he tried to calm himself. He gave the voice command to open the door. As she pushed through it, the feed from the camera went blank. He sighed and switched off the TV.

He wheeled to the front door of his apartment and opened it. Then he moved back a few meters into the middle of the lounge facing the open door. He heard the elevator doors open and the almost imperceptible footsteps on the carpet in the corridor leading to his door. His heart was about to jump out of his chest.

Emily walked into the open door frame and stopped. He had steeled himself for the expression on her face when she saw him. Still, it jolted him, this combination of bewilderment and sadness that radiated from her.

"Hi Jake" her voice was hoarse.

"Hi Emily—come in."

She took a tentative step forward and turned around. For the fraction of a second he thought she was going to walk out again, but she simply closed the door. He saw her taking a deep breath as she turned back towards him.

"Please help me out Jake. I don't know what to do."

"Come here." Gentle.

She walked towards him slowly, letting her canvas bag slide off her shoulder and drop onto the floor.

Jake turned the chair sideways and extended his hand towards her. She took it, uncertain.

He pulled her along towards the sofa. "Sit down."

She sat down in the corner of the sofa, slipped off her shoes and pulled her legs up under her.

Jake regarded her quietly. "You look nice with your hair short like this. You never had it this short when …" He didn't finish the sentence. "How was the flight? Can I get you something to drink?"

"The flight was okay and yes, do you have diet coke?"

Jake rolled behind the kitchen counter and opened the fridge. He took out two diet cokes and pushed back towards Emily. Opening both cans simultaneously he handed one to her. She took it, took one sip and then put it on the tray table next to her. Her eyes didn't leave him for one second. He rolled backwards along the sofa, stopped, locked the breaks and with one practiced, fluid motion pushed himself across onto the sofa. He grabbed the fabric of his pants below the knees and pulled his legs up onto the sofa too, mirroring her posture. She kept watching him and he watched her, noticing her eyes starting to glisten.

They were sitting facing each other, Emily at one end of the sofa and Jake not quite at the other. He held out one hand palm up towards her like reaching out across a chasm. She extended her arm and her fingertips touched Jake's. He turned his hand over and their fingers intertwined. He pulled gently. When he didn't feel any resistance from her he pulled her into his arms. She came to rest with her face against his chest, tears streaming down her face. He held her while she cried, releasing the pent up tension.

When she had calmed down she smiled up at him. "Thank you for helping me through this awkward situation."

"I have already done my crying—and eight months ago I wasn't able to do this. That's why I couldn't see you. I'm sorry."

"I understand" She was quiet for a moment. "Now will you tell me what happened?"

Jake gave her an abbreviated account of the events in Venezuela and the four and a half months he'd spent in hospital and rehab, but he didn't elaborate on the exact nature of his injury. Predictably, it was her next question.

"I fractured two vertebrae in the lumbar spine. That's about navel height. The spinal cord was severely damaged in that area and as a result my legs are completely paralyzed."

"Any chance of repairing the damage?"

"No, unfortunately not." He didn't feel like getting into the intricacies of veteran politics and medical insurance.

She didn't question it.

"Let me move back a little."

Emily took her weight off him and Jake moved back into the corner of the L shaped lounger, straightening out his legs in front of him. Emily moved up as well. She placed a hand on his knee and let it slide down the length of his lower leg.

"So you can't feel this at all?"

Jake shook his head. Her hand rested at his ankle. "Can I see?

Jake pulled at his pants to make his leg bend at the knee and rested it against Emily. She pushed the fabric up to the knee. "This is sad. You always made such a big effort to work out your legs."

"It's no longer important to me, Emily. It's still important to be healthy and fit and independent, but in some regards I'm not the same person I used to be. I have learned that there are more important things than whether my legs are toned or whether I can walk or not."

"Like?"

"Forgiveness, acceptance, friendship…"

She pulled the fabric down again and straightened his leg out. Then she rested her head against his chest again. "Have you forgiven me?"

"Yes, I have."

He played with her short, auburn hair.

"I have also changed. I have really taken a hard look at myself and our relationship and I have realized how many mistakes I made. I hurt you, Jake. I understand that now and for that I'm really sorry." She paused, but Jake didn't say anything, so Emily continued. "Do you think we could give our relationship another try, now that you and I are different people?"

"Would you want to?" Jake was genuinely surprised.

"Yes."

He pulled her chin up and she slid higher until their lips touched. To Jake the kiss was electrifying. It gave him a glimpse of a possible future he hadn't dared to dream of for a year. Their lips separated.

"Jake?"

"Yes?"

"Do you still love me?"

"Yes, I do" He just held her for a while gently stroking her face and her hair.

"Emily?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think you could be with a man that will never walk next to you or dance with you or play racket ball with you again?"

"Yes, I can do that."

"Good—but I'll ask you again at the end of the weekend. Just in case you change your mind—and I won't hold it against you, because it won't be as easy as you may think it is."

She smiled at him. "Fair enough."

"Shall we go and get something to eat?" It was approaching half past twelve.

"Sure, what did you have in mind?"

"There is a tapas place at The Pavilions I think you would like."

"Sounds good. Can I just use your bathroom please?"

"Sure, through there." He pointed at the bedroom door.

She climbed over him off the sofa, took a small cosmetics kit out of her bag and slipped through the door.

Jake stayed on the sofa and waited for her to return. He wanted to make a point for her to see exactly what being with him would be like. He wasn't certain yet if rekindling their relationship was such a good idea, but he was willing to explore the possibility over the course of the weekend.

She returned, eye makeup restored to its customary perfection. She stood near the front door, looking at Jake, waiting. "Ready when you are."

Jake pushed himself forward till he was parallel to his wheelchair and moved back across. He pulled his feet up on the foot rest and pushed his knees together. He rolled up to the dining table and picked up his old, well-worn leather biker jacket, phone and car keys. Then he pushed past Emily and opened the door. "After you."

She walked out into the hallway, Jake matching her pace to the elevator. They descended into the parking garage where the doors parted and Jake rolled out leading the way.

"How are you getting into your truck, as high as it is?" Emily asked curiously.

"Ah. Thanks to a little piece of technology courtesy of JJ. Look." They had reached the driver side of his truck. He opened the door and pushed the descend button. His seat slid out and down and he transferred into it. Then he placed the wheelchair in its holder and the seat rose back into position. Jake grinned "Isn't this cool?"

"I must say, that's something."

"Come on, get in."

She walked to the other side and climbed into the cab.

Jake pressed the starter and the silent hydrogen-electric engine came alive. They chatted amicably during the drive. Twenty minutes later they pulled into a disabled parking spot at The Pavilions. "One advantage." Jake quipped. "Front row parking."

They got out and Jake led the way to the restaurant. They had lunch and afterward spent some time browsing through the stores. On a whim they decided to catch an afternoon movie. Jake got popcorn and they happily munched their way through the romantic comedy they had chosen. Afterward they had giggled like teenagers about the stupid pick-up lines the male lead had used to woo his girl. Emily had commented that she would have never succumbed to Jake's charm if he had used anything remotely as stupid as these.

They drove west out of Denver into the mountains and found an out-of-the-way spot with a decent view where they parked the truck and talked for a long time. Jake explained how difficult it had been and still was for him to come to terms with his injury, that he felt that he had let his squad down and how difficult he found it to relate to people now, where before he had been outgoing and open. Together with his squad mates he had always been up to some mischief or other. Pretty much everyone at Pendleton had heard of Jake Sully. Emily came clean about her ploys and apologized again. She told Jake about the counseling she had sought and how it had changed her perspective. She explained that she had found out shortly after their brief conversation in December that Jake was paralyzed and Jake inquired why she had asked him what had happened if she knew already. She explained that she needed to know if he could be honest with her to see if there was a base on which to rebuild their relationship. When they had poured their hearts out to each other, Emily looked at Jake and smiled. He held out his hand. She took it and he pulled her closer. When she had climbed over the middle console and sat on Jake's lap he hugged her tightly to himself his head over her shoulder and cried.

Emily put the takeaway they had picked up on the way back onto the dining table and went to the bathroom. When she opened the bathroom door again Jake was behind it. "I also need the bathroom and I want you to see what I do. You need to know what you are dealing with if you are serious about being with me."

"Sure." No sign of uneasiness in her voice.

Jake rolled into the bathroom and took a catheter in a sterile blister pack out of a drawer. "I don't have bladder control, so I need to do this every couple of hours.

Emily watched the procedure as Jake catheterized himself. "Is it uncomfortable?"

"No, I have no feeling in this part of my body."

"So that means you can't have sex then." It was a statement rather than a question and her voice was curiously neutral.

Jake looked up at her and grinned. "Not all is lost."

"Huh?"

"I can have sex. I may not be quite as good as I used to be …" He trailed off. "But there are other parts of my anatomy that work perfectly." He wiggled his fingers at her.

"Sounds promising"

"We'll see. Come let's eat."

Jake sanitized his hands and wheeled out of the bathroom.

"I brought a bottle of wine from San Diego. Do you have a bottle opener?"

"Yes, the one you bought. Top drawer in the kitchen. No wine glasses though."

"Any glasses will do." She walked into the kitchen, collecting the bottle opener and two glasses from a stack on the kitchen counter. Curiously she opened one of the top cupboards. Dust had settled on the empty shelves.

"Can't reach." Jake said from somewhere behind her. "Are you checking on me like the inspector from the VA when I applied for a study grant?"

She closed the cupboard again and turned around. "You are studying?"

Jake pointed to a pile of paper files stashed on the floor in a corner of the lounge. "Yes, robotics engineering, specializing in weapons design—can't spend all day at the gym, gotta do something with my spare time."

"I'm impressed."

She picked her bag off the floor where she'd left it and got out a bottle of Chardonnay flavored wine. She walked back into the bedroom. Jake got the food off the dining room table and a bottle of water and followed her.

"I thought we'd make ourselves comfortable." She climbed onto Jake's queen-size bed and settled on the far side where she put the glasses on the nightstand and proceeded to open the bottle.

Jake stopped in the doorway. "I must say you are definitely a lot more relaxed than I expected you to be. That's good."

"That's because I'm happy, but to be honest, I really didn't know what to expect before I got here."

Jake rolled up next to the bed and put the food on it. Then he moved over and pulled up his legs. Emily took the food and put it on the night stand. She poured the wine into the glasses next to it. Then she set the bottle down and regarded Jake. This time she held out her hand and when he took it she pulled him towards her.

He rolled onto his side, playfully half-collapsing on top of her. She laughed and pushed him up, her hands against his chest. "Hey, soldier. I think I can get used to this."

"Well, if you can, than so can I."

Her hands slid around from his chest onto the small his back. She pulled up his T-shirt and with a little help from Jake she pulled it off. He rolled back onto his stomach. She felt the scar on Jake's back. Her hand traced along its length. "Can you feel this?"

"Yup."

"Does it feel okay?"

"Yes, it's not painful or unpleasant if that's what you mean." Jake's face was relaxed and peaceful and a smile played around his mouth showing that he enjoyed her gentle touch.

"Good." She sat up, leaned over and kissed his back, one gentle kiss at a time, working her way along the scar and then all the way up to Jake's neck. She slid down and rested her head next to his. "You are the most handsome man I know and you are the only man I want to be with. To me you're still perfect."

He pushed himself onto his side, resting his head against his hand. "I have never been perfect and less so now. So if I am your yardstick for perfection I shall have a serious conversation with your boss about the quality of work you are delivering" he teased.

"Oh, you …" Her fist shot forward to punch his chest, but Jake caught it before it landed

"Hey, there's my little tigress, and I'd thought you were all tame now." They both laughed and Jake closed the distance and kissed her again. Then he pushed back. How about some of that wine you brought?

"Sure." She moved back, sitting against the padded faux-leather headboard. Jake did the same and took the glass she held for him. "Cheers—to new beginnings."

"To new beginnings."

They sat there for a moment sipping their wine in silence. It was getting dark outside. "Bedroom. Window. Transparency twenty percent." Jake darkened the bedroom window. He continued. "Bedroom. Lights. Mode sunset. Dim thirty percent." The full surface ceiling light bathed the bedroom in a pleasant yellowish glow. Jake activated the bedroom TV, switched to a channel that played slow, soothing music and darkened the screen. Then he put his wine away and took one of Emily's hands' into his. He looked at her. "Emily, do you want to sleep with me?"

"Yes, I do."

Jake leaned forward and pulled open the drawer of his nightstand. He popped a Sildenafil out of a blister pack and held the little blue, diamond shaped pill up for Emily to see. "I'll take one of these. Just to be on the safe side. It's my first time since the injury and I have to admit that I am a bit scared. I don't want to disappoint you." He popped the pill into his mouth and washed it down with another sip of wine.

Emily put her wine down, too. Then she straddled him and took his face between her hands. "Don't be scared, soldier. We'll take it really slow."

They started out by reacquainting themselves with each others' bodies. Their lovemaking was gentle, almost serene, giving each other lots of time to explore and experience the multifaceted sensations. Where before their sexual encounters had been urgent and almost desperate in their need for gratification, it was now slow and thoughtful, but no less gratifying ... In the end, both of them were glistening with sweat, they held each other and then both of them started to cry.

Emily was sleeping in the crook of his arm, one of her legs propped over his. He slid out of her embrace and into the chair, sipped some water then went to the bathroom. When he came back out Emily was awake. "I'm afraid supper is cold now," she whispered.

He smiled. "I'll trade supper any day for the experience I just had." He got back into bed wearing a pair of what looked like black and dark red runner's leggings. They went over his heels but otherwise his feet were bare. He stayed on his back and put his arms behind his head.

"What are these?" Emily pointed at the leggings?

"Oh, these things are really cool. They do all kinds of things—assist circulation and lymph flow from my legs, help prevent pressure sores, keep my legs warm when necessary and" he paused for the coup de grâce "they make me look like the next big thing in track and field." He grinned his crooked half-grin and pointed at the racing style design and trim.

"I like it." She snuggled back against him.

He pulled the microfiber duvet over them. "I could get used to this."

"Hmmm?"

"I said I could get used to this."

"I'm glad."

Jake put his arm around Emily and just lay there thinking about the day. Dr. Lassiter's words popped into his head. _Remember that the reason you are here is the culmination of all of your decisions. It is your path and your choice where you go from here_. Indeed it was his choice what would happen tomorrow. It would also be Emily's choice of course, but right now the future seemed more promising than it had in a very long time.

He rolled over onto his stomach and checked the position of his legs. He pushed the pillow out from under his head and chest. He needed to lie flat otherwise he would wake up with a sore lower back in the morning. He listened to Emily's slow, regular breathing and felt a sense of peace that had eluded him for the past year. It had been 362 days, not counting the ones he had been in an induced coma that he'd woken up every day with that feeling of heaviness in the chest, that feeling of being unwanted, unappreciated. Over time it had become easier to gather the strength to get up every day and face whatever challenges the day would bring. Tomorrow morning, Jake felt certain that for the first time this feeling would be replaced by a sense of purpose and determination. His decision to follow the impulse to call Emily had been right. He could still trust himself.

On Sunday morning when Jake woke up he felt at peace. He regarded Emily. She was still asleep next to him. Jake slipped out of bed and into the bathroom. When he came back he was wearing surfer shorts and brought along some sterile swabs, syringes, needles and a vial of Botox. He put it on his nightstand and got back into bed sitting against the headboard.

Emily opened her eyes. "Hey soldier."

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"Better than in a long time." She pulled his hand to her mouth and kissed it.

"I'm glad. Ready to face the day?"

"Ready when you are."

"Look here, I want to show you something."

Emily sat up against the headboard, too, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

Jake pulled back the blanket so that his legs were exposed. "Look at my feet. Do you see the tremors?" Some of the muscles in Jake's feet were twitching.

"Yes, isn't this a good sign?"

"No, it's called reflexive spasms. I have no control over these muscles. They just start doing their own thing and the brain can't tell them to stop. And the spasms can get a lot worse than this."

"So what do you do?"

"I inject the muscles with Botox."

"This is surreal. You actually need to paralyze your muscles because you're paralyzed?"

"Yeah, I know it's a bit weird." Jake took the syringe and attached a needle, drawing the liquid from the vial. Then he changed to a thinner, shorter needle. He held the syringe between his teeth, pulled up his foot and rested it on his other leg like in a lotus position. He swabbed it and ejected any remaining air from the syringe. Then he placed several small injections into the twitching muscles. He drew up a second syringe and repeated the exercise with the other foot. When only a single dose was left in the syringe he held it out for Emily. "Your turn."

She took the syringe from him. "Where?"

"Here." He pointed at a spot near the heel. "Avoid any visible blood vessels. Hold the syringe perpendicular to the skin. The muscle you want to inject here is neither very big nor deep. So you only need to push the needle in about this far." He indicated the distance between his thumb and index finger. "Before you inject the Botox you need to gently pull back on the plunger to see if you hit a blood vessel. If so, meaning if you draw blood into the syringe, you need to start over; new syringe, new needle, new Botox, new spot."

"Are you sure you want me to do this?"

"Yes, I'm sure and believe me even if you botch this one, I won't feel a thing." He flashed his teeth at her.

"Okay, here we go." She pushed the needle into Jake foot, tested for blood like he had instructed and when none appeared pushed in the Botox. Then she extracted the needle.

"That was pretty good for a first time." Jake straightened out his leg again.

"Why did you want me to do this?"

"Because there may be situations where you will have to inject me. Either because I'm incapacitated or because I can't reach and I'd prefer if you didn't kill me by injecting me with air or putting something into the bloodstream that isn't supposed to go there."

"Makes sense."

"Last year, for example, when I was with JJ he had to inject me when I had a spasm in my lower back."

"Why did that happen?"

"Too much exercise." He put the syringes aside.

"Oh."

"You think you can do this?"

"For you, nothing is beyond me. I'll wipe your butt if necessary."

"Oh, geez. I hope it never comes to that." He pushed himself down until he was lying flat, just his head propped up on the pillow and pulled the blanket up to his waist.

"Just saying." Emily moved down next to him, snuggling against his side and tracing patterns on his chest with her hand.

"So you still want to give _us_ another try?"

She stopped the tracing and put her head onto Jake chest. "Yes I do. I haven't changed my mind."

Jake held her and stroked her hair. "Good. I'm glad."

After a while Emily got up. "I'm going to have a shower. I'm so glad there are no water restrictions here in Denver."

Jake waited until he heard the water running. Emily loved taking showers, she would be busy for ten minutes at least. What he needed to do now was old fashioned, but it was part of the Marine etiquette and apart from that he felt that he owed Emily's father the courtesy of this call. He sat up, took his cell phone and dialed Franklin's number. After several rings he answered and Jake switched to video.

"Jake, what a surprise. How are you? I believe my daughter is with you. Is something wrong?" A concerned look appeared on his face.

"Good morning, Colonel. No nothing is wrong. I just need to ask you something."

"Sure, what can I do for you?"

"Sir, I suppose you are aware that I am no longer in the Marine Corps?"

"Yes."

"And I suppose in that case you are also aware of the reason for my discharge."

"I don't know the details of what went down in Venezuela, but I know of the result."

Jake felt like navigating in quicksand. "So you are aware that I am paralyzed?"

"Yes I am."

Jake took a deep breath "Sir, this is the hardest question I have ever needed to ask." He paused. "Will you allow me to ask your daughter to marry me?"

Franklin blinked in surprise, but then he smiled, "Jake, my boy, you've got my blessing."

"Thank you, Colonel. And I hope to see you again, soon."

"See you soon, son."

Jake closed the feed. His heart was beating in his throat.

Jake rolled over onto his stomach and took the box with the ring out of his nightstand. He removed whatever was on top of it then he sat up and moved the nightstand away from the bed creating a two feet gap. He slid off the bed into the gap resting on his lower legs and supporting himself on his elbows. He pulled his right knee up and placed his foot flat on the ground so that he arrived at something resembling a kneeling position. This would have to do. After a while he heard the water being turned off and a minute later Emily appeared in the bathroom door wrapped in a towel. With a second she was busy rubbing her hair. She looked confused for a moment seeing Jake on the floor, but then she seemed to catch on and smiled. She sat down on her knees and heels in front of him wrapping the towel around her head.

Jake opened his right hand and extended it towards her as far as he could without losing his perch on the nightstand. The ring was lying in his palm. "Emily, will you marry me?"

Tears were shooting into Emily's eyes, her chin was trembling and she covered her mouth with one hand. With the other she took the ring out of Jake's palm and enclosed it in her fist, then clutched it tightly against her chest. All she could do was nod. She sat there crying, looking at Jake through her bloodshot eyes and Jake just remained still until she moved. Eventually she stood up and sat on the edge of the bed. Jake pushed himself up and sat next to her. She was still clutching the ring to her chest but now she put her other arm around Jake's shoulders and pulled him backwards until they were lying next to each other. Emily curled herself into Jake's side. She still hadn't said a word.

"Come let's get back under the covers, you are cold." Jake nudged Emily gently. She moved over to make space and Jake pulled his legs up and straightened out next to her. She rested her head on his chest again. Then, when the flow of tears had stopped she faced him and her mouth found his. Jake could taste the salt from her tears on her lips. When their lips finally parted Emily whispered "I love you Jake and yes, I will marry you." She finally unclenched her fist, took the ring and slipped it over her left ring finger. It fit perfectly.

"I love you, too, Emily. I love you with all my heart."

They spent the rest of the morning making plans. They agreed that Jake would move back to San Diego since his studies were mostly online and therefore didn't require him to stay in Denver. He mentioned the job with the fire department he had applied for but since no decision had been made yet, he explained, he would simply retract the application.

Emily's place, the one she had moved into after their break-up, was a one bedroom apartment in a high-rise similar to the one here in Denver but it was a bit less spacious. For the time being they figured it would do.

They considered driving back to San Diego together, stopping in Las Vegas on the way to elope, but then they decided against it and settled on a small ceremony involving their closest relatives and friends. Emily's dad and her childhood friend Corinne as her maid of honor with her husband, Jake's brother Tom and JJ as best man with his family. They went online, registered for a marriage license in San Diego and made an appointment for a civil ceremony for the sixteenth of September at four in the afternoon.

After lunch Jake took Emily back to the airport. She sat on his lap and he drove her to the security barrier through which she needed to pass. It was a bittersweet moment when they finally had to say good bye. They kissed one last long kiss and then Emily slipped off Jake's lap and walked up to the doors that led to the security check point. At the doors she turned around and waved at Jake once more, blew some kisses at him and then she was gone.

Jake turned the wheelchair around and made his way back to his truck. He passed those people who stared at him and those that pretended not to notice and the effect they had on him came back into focus. When he had been with Emily these things that normally cause him little pangs of hurt had seemed entirely inconsequential. Now he felt them even more acutely. He hadn't expected this, but he realized that he needed Emily because more than anything she gave him the feeling that he was just any other guy.

He thought about the tasks that lay ahead for the rest of the day. Call Tom and JJ, pack his few belongings and in the morning he needed to call the rental office and arrange for a move-out inspection of his apartment. He had rented the place fully furnished so he didn't need to worry about moving any large objects. He was planning to leave for San Diego immediately after the inspection. The trip was a bit over a thousand miles and he would do it in two days, stopping more or less half way, depending on what time he got to leave.

When Jake got home he pulled two large army duffel bags out of the bottom of the wardrobe and threw them on his bed. He checked the time. It was a quarter past four. It would be another fifty minutes before Emily landed in San Diego. He had made her promise to call him as soon as she was on the ground. He wanted to make sure he wasn't on the phone when she called, so he decided to call Tom first. He dialed Tom's number.

Tom appeared on the screen of Jake's phone after a couple of rings. He seemed to be walking somewhere down a long corridor. "Hey Jake, Long time no see."

"Hey Tom."

"How are you? How's Denver?"

"I'm fine and you? How is the training going?"

"Training is going great. To what do I owe the pleasure of your unexpected call?"

"Could you get out of your training for a day?"

"Sure. Depends when though."

"Sixteenth of September."

"The sixteenth? Let me check my schedule."

While Tom was checking, Jake contemplated what to do if Tom couldn't get out of his program. Nothing—he decided. He wouldn't reschedule his wedding if Tom couldn't make it. He felt that they had drifted even further apart over the last couple of months since Jake had moved to Denver. They never called each other; they hadn't even spoken on their birthday.

Tom came back. "Sixteenth is ok. I can get the day off if necessary. So what's happening on the sixteenth?"

"I'm getting married."

Tom stopped dead. "Wow. Now that's the last thing I expected. Congratulations."

"Will you come?"

"Sure. What's your fiance's name?"

"Emily. Are you going to bring someone?"

"No, I'm not seeing anyone. Where's the wedding? Denver?"

"No it'll be in San Diego at four in the afternoon. If you can make it the day before, I'm going to have a bit of a bachelors' as well."

"I'll see what I can do." Tom started walking again. "And Jake?"

"Yeah?"

"How's your back?"

"It's unchanged Tom. I'm still paralyzed."

"Just asking."

"Well, thanks for asking."

"I'll see you in a few weeks. I'll let you know if I can come the day before."

"Okay. See you."

"See you Jake."

Jake closed the feed. He checked the time again. Only two minutes had passed. He decided to call JJ next.

"Hi Jake, what's up man?"

"Hi JJ. Do you have any plans for the sixteenth of September?"

"No, not that I'm aware of. Why? Are you coming for a visit?"

"Yes in fact I am."

"Cool, I'm looking forward to seeing you in person again."

"You'll actually see me sooner than that. I'm moving back to San Diego."

"But Emily…" He trailed off. "Don't tell me you are seeing Emily again?"

Jake nodded into the camera on his phone.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Jake?"

"Yes, I believe it is. I'll tell you all about it when I get back to San Diego."

"When are you arriving?"

"Should be there by Tuesday."

"Wow, that soon. Well, I'm certainly looking forward to seeing you again and to your explanation. You never mentioned anything about this when I talked to you four days ago."

"Four days ago I didn't know."

"Hmm. Just be careful Jake, I really don't want her to hurt you again."

"Believe me JJ, I am fully aware of what I'm doing."

"Okay. So what's happening on the sixteenth, then? House-warming party?"

Jake laughed. "No, much better than that. I would like to ask you to do something for me."

"Sure if I can."

"Will you be my best man?" Jake could see the astonishment on JJ's face mixed with a trace of concern.

"Jeez, Jake, are you saying that you and Emily…"

"Yes, that's what I'm saying. Emily and I are going to get married on the sixteenth."

"I am happy for you Jake and I am honored to be your best man."

"I hear a 'but' coming."

"But you better drag your sorry ass over here Wednesday night. I want to know exactly what brought about this unexpected turn of events. And believe me, if I think that you are doing something incredibly stupid—I would whip your butt if you could feel it."

"I appreciate your concern JJ, but I think that won't be necessary in any case. I'll see you Wednesday evening."

"Okay. Have a safe drive."

"Will do. See you Wednesday."

He started packing, pulling his clothes out of drawers and off the shelves of his wardrobe and stuffing them into one of the duffel bags. He collected his shoes and regarded each pair thoughtfully; his dress shoes that were part of the marine uniform which he had last worn during the discharge ceremony at Quantico; his old-school, plain sneakers he wore to the gym almost daily and his snow boots that he had worn every day during his trip to Whistler. Last he took his army boots off the floor of his wardrobe. He had worn them on his last mission, on the day of his last jump. While the medics had cut his uniform from his body, for some reason they had left his boots intact and someone had returned them to him. Initially it had felt like a cruel joke, but now he was glad that he still had them. In some way they were a symbol of the connection that tethered the old Jake Sully to the new.

He had thought that he could never wear them again, not because of any physical limitation, but because of all the pain and emotions that were attached to them. Now however, he felt that they were no longer a symbol of failure. In fact the whole concept of success and failure had shifted from something clearly defined, from polar opposites, from black and white to something much hazier. The line between success and failure had become blurred and Jake realized that failure was not the opposite but rather, in many respects, a prerequisite for success.

Jake put the boots aside. Instead he slipped off his Skechers and put them into the bag with the others. He would wear his boots tomorrow on the trip back to San Diego.


	14. San Diego, CA, Wed 10 Aug 2147

San Diego, CA, Wed 10 Aug 2147

_How can you see into my eyes like open doors, leading you down into my core where I've become so numb without a soul my spirit sleeping somewhere cold until you find it there and lead it back home..._

Jake pulled into JJ's driveway in front of the garage. He stayed in the car for a moment, waiting for the song playing on the sound system to finish. By all accounts it was ancient. He had never heard of the name of the group or the woman who sang it, but the lyrics were beautiful.

His car stereo buffered 10 minutes of the live stream so he rewound back to the beginning of the song, activated the lyrics display and the capture function to record it on the system's flash memory and watched it again.

He wondered about the origin of the song; if more than a hundred years ago the song had been written about someone like him who had lost himself and who had then found someone like he had found Emily to bring him back to life, as the song's title suggested.

After the song had finished he got out of the truck. JJ was already waiting in the open front door. "Hi Jake, come in. What were you doing?"

"I was watching a music video."

"Which one?"

"Don't know—old, but absolutely amazing. I didn't copy it down, but I'll get it and play it for you if you want."

"Maybe later, come let's have a chat first."

Nora came down the stairs, Tyler in tow in his jammies. She bent down to hug Jake and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "How is my second favorite Marine? You look great."

"Hi Nora." As soon as she had stepped aside Tyler was busy climbing up on Jake's lap. "Hi Tyler. Hold on."

Tyler hugged Jake who did two 360ies much to Tyler's delight.

"Ok, Tyler enough, back to bed." Nora shooed Tyler off Jake's lap. "He just wouldn't go to sleep without saying hello to you." The two of them disappeared back up the stairs.

"Tyler has grown a lot since I last saw him."

"Yes and he started school as well. Lounge or den? You know the rule. You must get there on your own."

Jake made his way down into the den again and onto the recliner, but he kept his feet on the ground and he pulled his right shoe off. JJ had gotten drinks out of the fridge, put one down on the table next to Jake's recliner then sat down on his own, popping his beer and watched Jake curiously. Jake waited until JJ had settled down. Then without the help of his hand, Jake's right heel lifted a bit more than an inch of the ground.

JJ clapped his hands. "Very good, and the left?"

Jake shook his head. "Not strong enough."

"But this is definitely an improvement since the end of last year, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. This is as good as it's going to get on the right, though, but I can probably get there with the left quad as well."

"Cheers, let's drink to your quads then."

Jake settled back in his chair and popped his own beer, too. "Thanks, cheers."

"So—let's talk about you and Emily."

Jake grinned. "It's all good."

"Okay, so start from the beginning."

"I didn't tell you then, but I was going to propose to her last year already, but then she walked out on me and I never got the chance."

"But you didn't want to see her in December. So what changed your mind?"

"It's not that I didn't want to see her to be honest, but I couldn't. I couldn't have handled the rejection if it had come to that."

"When did you get back in touch?"

"She sent me a message on my birthday. And then I called her."

JJ raised an eyebrow. "Eight days ago and you proposed to her already?"

"I invited her to visit me in Denver. It felt like the right thing to do. We spent the weekend together. Talked a lot about what happened to me, about why she left and why she wanted to come back. She's been seeing a psychologist since the beginning of December. You'll see she's a lot more mature than she used to be."

"That's good. So no more spoiled brat behavior?"

"No, no fits, not tantrums, nothing."

"How did she react to seeing you in the wheelchair?"

"She was scared and tense at first, but she got through it pretty quickly. Franklin actually told her after our call in December that I'm paralyzed. So she had seven months with her therapist to come to terms with that herself and make up her mind if she wanted to be with me or not."

"I'm surprised that she didn't try to contact you sooner."

"I asked her about that too. She said that it had been both her dad's and her therapist's recommendation to wait until my birthday. But she also admitted that at least in the beginning it had been very hard for her to heed their advice. Then she decided it was a test of her conviction to wait until August."

"Hmm. So I guess you both have had enough time to think about what you want, but the question is do you think Emily will be able to deal with your everyday limitations? Or the random things like doors that are too narrow or stairs that are too high? The days when you are in so much pain you can't get out of bed unless you inject a knock-out painkiller?"

"I have made a point already in showing her what it means to live with a paralyzed man. So far she hasn't had any issues, but I guess only time will tell." He paused and looked at JJ. "But isn't your concern really whether I can handle it if Emily decides she's had enough and leaves me again?"

"Yes, that is my main concern."

"To be honest, I think it would be hard for me, but it is a possibility that I am taking into account and a risk I am prepared to take."

They both sipped their beers for a while in silence. Then Jake carried on.

"When I dream, I often dream that I am walking or running and it feels real. I can really feel myself running and it doesn't bother me. Sometimes I dream I am flying. That is when I really feel free. I think that is truly what upsets me the most still that I can't skydive, at least not on my own. And I don't mean can't in the sense of ability. I believe I am entirely capable of managing the jump and the landing even without the use of my legs, you know. I mean in the sense of how other people's perceptions and rules limit me in exploring my potential."

"I know what you mean."

"There are only a few people like you and now Emily who really see _me _without any reservations. Who really believe in me and that I have potential. That I am more than a pitiful cripple with a broken back who can't stand up and who can't walk."

"Jake you have come a long way already, but you do still have a way to go. You still have to learn to believe in yourself without any reservations."


	15. San Diego, CA, Thu 15 Sep 2147

San Diego, CA, Thu 15 Sep 2147

Jake was browsing around a store at the San Diego airport. It was half past twelve, Tommy should have been here by now, but his flight was delayed, so Jake had another thirty minutes to kill before his brother's arrival. Tommy had surprised Jake with the fact that he had actually decided to come the day before the wedding. Jake had very much expected Tom to fly in at the last minute, stay for the ceremony and leave straight after, but definitely no later than the next morning. It was rather unexpected that Tom had taken two days' leave. Even more unexpected was that according to the itinerary he had emailed Jake, he was planning on staying until Sunday afternoon. He certainly hoped that they were going to be able to spend four days together without getting into another argument over Tom's expectations and Jake's failures. Jake decided he wouldn't let his brother screw up the weekend. If necessary he would ask Tom to leave, even before the wedding.

Jake tried to remember when last he had spent this much time with his brother. He couldn't pin it down exactly. It was probably sometime after their eighteenth birthday, before Tom had gone off to college and Jake had remained in Denver to finish high school after his hopes of a professional snowboarding career had come to naught. Even back then they had already been distant, not in a bad kind of way, they just didn't relate to each other. Tommy had always been stuck behind his computer, always reading and researching things while Jake had spent every minute outdoors or at the gym doing one sport or another.

Tom had been an A student who had passed his matric with flying colors, and to no one's great surprise he had won a full scholarship to one of the prestigious Ivy League schools on the East Coast. Jake on the other hand hadn't cared much for school. He had been glad to escape it in the first place and thus found being back at high school a year and a half later a trying experience. The teachers constantly held up his brother's academic achievements as the yardstick by which to judge him. Their argument was that Jake, being Tom's identical twin, had the same intelligence, the same capacity to excel academically, but that he was just plain lazy. It had been a war of willpower. The more the teachers had pushed, the less Jake had been willing to make the effort. He had scraped through classes and exams, just doing enough to not unnecessarily prolong the experience by having to repeat a year.

The long months of enforced idleness while he hadn't been able to exercise much due to his fractured arm, were mostly spent playing video games. He had been seventeen when he had taken a stupid risk trying a particularly spectacular jump to impress his friends. They had been snowboarding in the back country on a slope he didn't know well and he had landed elbow first on an exposed rock.

When they had assessed the fractures at the hospital and taken into account the options that the family's insurance would cover, the surgeon had taken Jake's dad aside and suggested in all seriousness to have his son's arm amputated and fitted with a prosthetic instead. Jake had been absolutely horrified when his dad had told him of the surgeon's plans and had begged and pleaded for an alternative solution. Eventually his parents had relented, under the condition that he quit the snowboarding circuit for good and return to school. At private rates a specialist had been brought in who put Jake's arm in the external fixture of rods, pins and wires screwed into every loose piece of bone to realign them correctly. It had looked like he had a spiral staircase attached to his arm.

Eventually the frame had been removed and replaced with an ultra-light carbon fiber shell which he had had to wear during the day for another couple of months. The shell had at least allowed for movement of the elbow. But it hadn't been until a year after his fall that he had regained full mobility in his elbow and another year to regain all the muscle strength to make the left arm indistinguishable from the right.

Jake considered how the financial strain that the family had been under due to his enormous medical bills may have affected Tom's attitude and behavior towards him. He recalled a comment Tom had once made. It had been shortly after the external fixture had come off. Jake had somewhat naively believed that his elbow had been immobilized by the metal rods and pins only and had been deeply upset to realize that even with the scaffold removed his elbow joint was still locked in the same ninety degree angle as before.

When for the first time since before the accident he had tried to play a video game with the motion capture pickup that interpreted his stance and movements into the game instead of the hand-held controller, he had cursed and shouted out his frustration at his inability to straighten his elbow and make the computer interpret his movements the way he wanted to.

Tommy had walked into the room, asking Jake to keep it down so that he could study. Jake had thrown himself onto his bed sulking and Tom had said, "you really should have let them amputate your arm and got on with life, instead of moping around for months and making everybody else miserable, too." The comment had stung, but at the time Jake had believed that Tom wasn't serious. Now though, as he thought about it again, he was pretty sure he had been.

Jake checked the time again, another twenty minutes. He left the mall part of the airport and made his way back to arrivals. This was a busy section and it was slow going, negotiating his way through the stream of travelers. More than once somebody bumped his chair and one particularly hasty passenger in a smart business suit, who was looking behind him rather than in front, ran straight into him and Jake threw up his arms to keep the man from falling on top of him. The man looked horribly embarrassed and mumbled some vague excuses before disappearing into the crow again.

Jake found a less busy spot off to the side of the waiting area and resumed his contemplation while keeping his eyes on the exit doors.

One thing was certain. Had he agreed to the amputation, his life would have taken an entirely different path. He would have never become a Marine, he would have never met Emily and he wouldn't be paralyzed. He would have lost his left arm though and at the time that thought had been entirely inconceivable. Now he had a pretty good idea what that would have meant. He tried to decide if it would have been the lesser of two evils. With or without a prosthetic he would have still been able to snowboard and to skydive and do most of the other things he used to enjoy.

With hindsight he wondered if there was such a thing as fate; if his fate had always been to be disabled and because he had defied it once it had come back for more and the second time round he hadn't been able to escape.

Finally the arrivals display showed the plane from La Guardia as '_Landed'_. Another few minutes and Tommy would walk through the doors. He thought of how Tommy had changed while he was at college and how he had become openly disdainful of Jake's view of the world. Another time he had said that he felt that Jake was squandering his talents. Jake smiled at the thought. He was studying engineering now, though he hadn't mentioned it to Tom, yet. Maybe it would please him.

The last time he'd seen Tom had been nearly a year ago in Quantico. Back then, Tommy's facial expression when he had entered the venue had unsettled Jake and he tried to picture what kind of face Tom would be making when he walked out of that door and saw him this time. Then he had worn his uniform for the last time and he had still had his jar-head buzz cut with the sides cropped so close to his skull you could see the skin. He still kept his hair short, but it was all the same length now, giving him a less severe look. He was wearing gray cargo pants, a black T-shirt and his black biker jacket. He could certainly pass for a student.

Jake looked down at his hands for a moment. They were strong hands, with calluses on the inside from working out at the gym—not academics' hands that never gripped anything heavier than a stylus. He tried to imagine himself once more without a left arm, but standing on his own two feet waiting for Tommy to arrive. Maybe their relationship would have been different; maybe he would have walked up to Tommy now and given him a one-armed hug that Tommy would have returned without reservations. Maybe they would have walked to the truck together joking and laughing all the way. He sighed and shook his head to chase the image away.

He looked up again just as the doors parted and Tommy walked through. Tom looked around but didn't see Jake straight away. Jake rolled up to meet him. When Tom saw him and his eyes widened for a split second but at least he didn't flinch. He even smiled a tentative smile.

"Hi Tommy. Welcome to San Diego."

"Hi Jake. You look good." He seemed to be fairly relaxed.

"Thanks, how was the flight?"

Tom shrugged "Flight was okay. Nothing special."

"Come let's go home unless there's anything you need to do?" Making their way through the terminal, Jake noticed that the airport was considerably less busy now than half an hour earlier.

"No nothing, I got whatever I need." Tom patted the garment bag he was carrying over his shoulder.

"If it's ok with you, you'll stay with Emily and me. We don't have a spare room, but the sofa in the lounge is large enough to sleep on. If you want a room of your own, you can stay at JJ's house. You chose."

"Your place is fine, but don't you want to be alone on your wedding night?"

"Does the thought of Emily and me having sex in the next room make you uncomfortable?"

"You can have sex then? I was wondering."

"Yes, some things are working better than others."

Tom raised an inquisitive eyebrow for a moment. "To answer your question, yes the thought does make me uncomfortable, but then as you have surely noticed just being in your presence makes me uncomfortable and—I would really like to sort things out between us. That's why I decided to stay for the whole weekend."

Jake ran through a number of possible responses in his head. From _'How do you dare make this weekend about yourself?_' to _'I would also like to sort things out.'_ He settled on "We'll give it try. Let's see how things go—and," he added after a while, "I'll just slip you some of my meds. They'll put you right out and you won't hear a thing."

They had arrived at the elevator at the far end of the terminal that Jake had used earlier from the parking deck. It said '_Out of Service'_.

"Shit!" Jake muttered. "Come let's find another elevator. He turned around.

"Wait—how many levels up?"

Jake turned back. "Just one, why?"

"Come let's take the stairs."

"Um, I'm sure it hasn't escaped your notice, but I don't do stairs."

"No, but I do. I can get you up one flight of stairs. I'm not as weak as you might think I am."

"Are you sure?" Jake looked at Tom quizzically. He was surprised that Tom had even offered. He was sure trying hard to deal with his demons.

"Sure." He had opened the door to the staircase and was holding it open for Jake.

Jake rolled through and surveyed the stairs. "Okay, this is what we'll do." At the turn between the floors was a stone pedestal. He rolled up to it, locked the brakes and pushed himself up rotating onto the flat surface.

Now it was Tom's turn to look surprised. "Wow, I didn't realize you could do that."

"I'm not as weak as you might think I am." Jake quipped. He leaned forward and folded up the chair. "Take the chair and your bag up first."

Tom did so then came back down and stood in front of Jake about to pick him up. Jake stopped him. "Wait, Tom, there is an easier way to do this. Turn around and bend your knees a bit." Jake put both arms over Tom's shoulders. "Now just hold onto my arms, lean forward a bit to distribute the weight better and up the stairs you go. If you need to you can let go of one of my arms and hold onto the rail." A minute later they were up to the next level and Jake was back in his chair. Tom was panting as he opened the door for Jake again.

Jake rolled through and kept the speed up so that Tom had to work to keep up the pace. When they arrived at the truck, Jake stopped and grinned up at Tom who was frowning. "What the …"

Jake interrupted him. "Now that I'm studying, you should hit the gym some more."

Tom's face was frozen for a brief moment, then his facial muscles relaxed and he actually started to laugh for once.

They drove back to Jake's apartment. Tom wasn't necessarily Mr. Congeniality, and although the ice hadn't been broken entirely, it had definitely thawed a bit.

When they got in, Emily wasn't at home. She had left a message saying she was having lunch with her dad and afterward she would be at the salon to have her hair done for the wedding. She would only be back late in the afternoon.

Tom settled down on the sofa while Jake made coffee for them. Then he joined Tom in the lounge. Tom watched him. He seemed to have gotten used to seeing Jake use the wheelchair, but a slightly pained expression appeared on his face over the rim of his coffee mug now as he watched Jake push himself across onto the chaise next to the sofa and pull his legs up after him.

"Tom, I want to ask you something."

"Yes?"

Jake decided to get straight to the point. "Do you remember after I broke my arm you once said to me I should have let them cut it off and gotten on with life—remember?"

Tom nodded.

"Then I didn't think you meant it, but now I think you did. Did you mean it, Tommy?"

Tom regarded Jake for a moment and carried on sipping his coffee. Then he put the mug down on the low table in front of him and nodded, keeping his eyes lowered. "Yes, I meant it Jake. I meant every word I said then."

"But why?"

His voice was measured. "Because I was jealous. You were the prodigal son. I felt like Mum and Dad had cast me aside—you were the only one they ever worried about. You got everything you ever wanted handed to you on a silver platter, including my college fund to fix your stupid arm, even though it was your own recklessness that led to the accident. I felt you should have taken responsibility for your actions and had you lost your arm it would have forced that responsibility on you." He looked at Jake for a moment who was slowly sipping his own coffee. Tom carried on.

"I had to work for everything I ever did and I never got half the recognition you got. When I won the scholarship to Cornell, Dad said to me 'well done, we expected nothing less of you' but when you finally scraped through matric it was the event of the century."

"So you wanted to see me fall?"

"Figuratively speaking—just once I wanted to see you kicked off your pedestal. At the time I felt that it would have pulled you back down to earth. To make us equals."

Jake looked at him dumbfounded. "You felt that with one arm I would have been your equal with two? Wasn't that a bit extreme and also—a bit permanent?"

Tom sighed. "Yes, I know it was childish and stupid," he said quietly.

"And now?"

Tom didn't say anything. He just stared at the Marine Corps logo on the coffee mug in front of him.

"Now you feel guilty because your stupid and childish wish has been granted after all?"

Tom's mouth compressed into a grim line and he nodded his head. Then he looked up at Jake. "Jake, if I could take any of the things I thought and said back, I would."

Jake pulled the left sleeve of his T-shirt up onto his shoulder so that the _Born Loser_ tattoo was exposed. "Do you know why I got this tattoo?"

Tom shook his head. "I thought it was a joke."

"There are a number of reasons. One, I felt I never really excelled at anything. Like at the national championships. By all accounts, I was the best boarder in my age group, but I never made it to the top. Academically I could never live up to your standards even if I had tried. I was always trailing behind. I was even born second. If you come second you don't win and if you don't win you lose."

Tom smiled a pained smile at the irony of the tattoo's meaning. "I never realized you felt that way."

"I don't anymore, but that's beside the point. Here's another thing about the tattoo. Jake pointed in the middle of the tattoo on the side of his arm right on top of the bone. The skin was a bit shinier there almost like a burn mark. "This is the only scar that I didn't have revised. It's where the top pin was screwed into the bone. And you see this line?" He pulled his arm across his chest so that Tom could see the inked line that trailed around Jake's triceps at the bottom end of the deltoid muscle marking the lower edge of the tattoo. "This is how much arm I would have had left if they'd gone ahead."

"This high?" Tom looked surprised.

Jake nodded.

"As I said, I am sorry I said it."

"Apology accepted. As for the fact that you are uncomfortable because I have no use of my legs, that's your thing. You have to get over that. It's not your fault."

"Okay, I'll try." Tom smiled tentatively again.

They carried on chatting for a while, about the plans for the evening and the next day. Then Tom asked Jake about the courses he was taking. As Jake had expected Tom wasn't entirely unbiased about Jake's chosen field of study, but at the same time their conversation didn't descend into an outright fight like so many times before. They agreed to disagree.

When Emily came back she brought takeaways and they sat down to eat. Emily chatted with Tom and Jake learned some details about his brother's life that surprised him. By the time they finished their supper Jake had to admit that Tom wasn't quite as nerdy as he had made him out to be and Tom had acknowledged that under certain circumstances the military had its uses, too. Small victories.

Later that evening Jake and Tom met up with JJ and Franklin to go to the cigar lounge that Jake had picked out for his bachelors. The place had a larger common section with a stylish bar and several separate rooms with dark, plush interiors for more private settings. JJ had organized one of these rooms for the evening. The lights were dimmed and pleasant music played in the background. They had their own waiter who provided them with a continuous supply of snacks, drinks and cigars. The men were sitting on comfortable leather sofas and chairs, including Jake who had picked a large leather armchair, his wheelchair discreetly tucked out of sight behind it. Into their second round of drinks JJ's cellphone rang and he answered, but he didn't say anything, just nodded his head and closed the connection again.

"Excuse me gents." JJ got up.

Jake looked at him questioningly. JJ just put his index finger to his lips, simply said "surprise" and walked from the room. Jake was curios to find out what kind of surprise JJ had in store for him. He settled back in his armchair, listening to the conversation between Franklin and Tom. He didn't have to wait long.

JJ reappeared wearing his full Marine uniform and a leather portfolio under one arm, followed by three men in full black combat suits and black body armor, all three of them wearing helmets with dark visors so that Jake couldn't see their faces. Nonetheless they seemed oddly familiar. JJ stepped up to Jake and the three men lined up along the wall behind him. JJ opened the portfolio. Franklin and Tom had stopped their conversation and looked curiously at the newcomers. Jake noticed a knowing smile on Franklin's face, so he was in on it. JJ addressed Jake with a mock British accent.

"Corporal Jake Sully, you are being court marshaled for going AWOL during a mission and other conduct unbecoming of a soldier of the Marine Corps. I have here with me three witnesses who will attest to your deeds. Corporal, how do you plead?"

Jake laughed and played along. "I apologize for not standing up your honor, but I am glued to my seat. I plead not guilty."

"Well then, the prosecution will hear the testimony of the witnesses. Witness A, what is your grievance against the Corporal?" The first of the black-clad men stepped forward.

"Corporal Sully failed to rendezvous at the agreed point and time and furthermore failed to notify us that his absence would be permanent." The man stepped back.

"Witness B?"

The second man stepped forward. "Corporal Sully failed to respond to any well wishes he received from us."

"And finally witness C."

A broad grin had appeared on Jake's face.

The third man stepped forward. "Corporal Sully failed to inform us of his impending marriage to Colonel Lauter's daughter." He stepped back.

JJ took over again. "I think the evidence speaks for itself. Corporal do you have anything to say in your defense?"

Jake put up both hands in front of him, palms facing out and laughed. "No your honor, I am speechless."

"Well, then." He put on his most sonorous voice. "Corporal Sully, I herewith find you guilty of all charges brought against you and sentence you to copious amounts of drinks, cigars and general debauchery and to include these three fine gentlemen in the proceedings." The three started to clap and cheer. Franklin and Tom and Jake joined in.

"Well done, Major."

The three took off their helmets and started peeling off their body armor. Jeff, Si and Alan, Jake's recon squad mates emerged and one after the other went over to Jake to hug him and shake hands. Meanwhile JJ disappeared again and returned a few minutes later back in his civilian clothes. Si sat down on the armrest of Jake's armchair and punched him playfully on the shoulder.

"So Jake, I heard you took the easy way out and went on a little government sponsored R&R and let us do all the hard work on our own."

"You heard right; a month and a half at Walter Reed and three more at Fort Belvoir. Walter Reed was ok, but I wouldn't recommend Belvoir for an extended vacation." Everybody laughed. Jake carried on. "I'm sorry I let you guys down; and also sorry about not returning your emails. I couldn't cope at the time. So how long have you guys been back?"

"Only a week." Si answered and Jeff added: "And the first thing we did was call the Major to find out if he knew where you were hiding."

"But let's not talk about us—so what happened exactly? I saw the flares, but we didn't realize that you had been hit until you didn't show up at rendezvous." Alan had been the second last to jump before Jake.

"It tore the canopy which sent me on a collision course with a tree trunk. The ropes snagged on the branches so I hung in the tree for a couple of hours." Jake noticed that Tom was also listening intently to his account. "So when none of you guys showed up to help me out I decided screw this bunch, I'm going on holiday." The waiter appeared with another round of drinks. Jake carried on. "The problem was my HUD was damaged so the beacon didn't work and the pack had fallen to the ground. My Jedi powers to levitate the pack up to my level failed me, so I had to let myself drop down to the ground eventually."

"How high?"

"Roughly four meters between my feet and the ground."

"Not impossible." Alan cocked his head like he was picturing the height in his mind.

"So what's the damage?

Jake looked at Jeff who had asked the question. "Then or now?"

"Both." Jeff grinned. "You know we are sticklers for detail."

"Twelve fractures, three torn ligaments…"

"Details!" Jeff interjected.

"Okay, do you have half an hour?" Jake laughed, but started to count on his fingers. "Concussion, whiplash, a dislocated shoulder and torn rotator cuff, three broken spinous processes on T6, 7 and 8 and spinal bruising, five broken ribs, partially collapsed lung, two shattered vertebrae L1 and L2, broken tibia and fibula on the right, torn anterior and posterior cruciate ligaments, torn exterior ligament and torn meniscus on the left."

"See that wasn't so hard." Si ruffled Jake's hair. Jake turned sideways and pushed him good-naturedly off the armrest in return.

"I wasn't finished yet—on top of the before an undisclosed number of greenstick fractures and the crushed L1 took out my spinal cord and about twenty descending peripheral nerves, too. So I'm missing a solid two inches of nerve tissue in my spine, which is why they couldn't put me back together properly and I had to leave you gents behind, for good." He grinned.

Si had reclaimed his perch on the armrest. "And now?"

"Now everything is shiny and new including two titanium alloy vertebrae, some pins in my leg and the exception of the missing two inches of spinal cord because they don't grow back on their own."

"But they can make it grow, can't they?" Jeff asked.

"Sure, I'll forward you all my bank account details and if you all chip in on a monthly basis, in about 50 years' time I will have saved up enough money for the treatment, except then I will be an old man and will probably spend the money on whiskey and women instead."

Everybody cheered except Tom. "Hey you're getting married tomorrow. Don't let your wife hear that."

Si had noticed the wheelchair behind Jake's armchair. "Hey, nice wheels." He pulled it forward. "Can you balance on two wheels?"

"Sure, can you?"

Si got off the armrest and sat down in the wheelchair. He lifted the front wheels into the air, but overbalanced and promptly fell over backwards. Everyone roared with laughter. Si got up, he too was laughing. "Okay. I'll leave the acrobatics to Mr. Bigshot here." He slapped Jake on the shoulder.

Their easygoing conversations carried on for another couple of hours. Eventually they all started to fade and decided to call it a night, but not before Jake had officially invited Si, Jeff and Alan to attend the wedding ceremony and dinner the next day. As he found out JJ's subterfuge had gone further; they had already been included in the count and Emily had given the green light, too.

The next day at four fifteen in the afternoon in the presence of their family and friends Emily and Jake were married. Even though he hadn't planned on it, Emily had insisted that Jake wear his Marine dress uniform. He had requested permission and it had been granted. As a result Tom and Corinne's husband Pete had been the odd ones out, the only men not wearing uniform. Jake surmised that Tom was not entirely comfortable in the presence of all these dress blues, but if so he didn't let on.

A justice of the peace performed the brief ceremony and after they had spoken their vows and signed the register, Emily had hopped onto Jake's lap and hadn't gotten off again until they got back to the car. Franklin was driving them and Tom to JJ's house for dinner.

Jake and Emily were sitting in the back, Tom in the passenger seat in front. Jake handed Franklin a memory stick. "Franklin would you please play this for me?"

"Sure." He plugged the stick into the car stereo. Jake nudged Emily. "Listen to the lyrics. This is our song. Emily leaned against Jake and listened with her eyes closed.

_how can you see into my eyes like open doors  
leading you down into my core  
where I've become so numb  
without a soul  
my spirit sleeping somewhere cold  
until you find it there and lead it back home  
wake me up inside  
call my name and save me from the dark  
bid my blood to run before I come undone  
save me from the nothing I've become_

now that I know what I'm without  
you can't just leave me  
breathe into me and make me real  
bring me to life  
wake me up inside  
call my name and save me from the dark  
bid my blood to run before I come undone  
save me from the nothing I've become  
bring me to life

frozen inside without your touch without your love  
darling only you are the life among the dead

all this time I can't believe I couldn't see  
kept in the dark but you were there in front of me

I've been sleeping a thousand years it seems  
got to open my eyes to everything

without a thought without a voice without a soul  
don't let me die here there must be something more

bring me to life  
wake me up inside  
call my name and save me from the dark  
bid my blood to run before I come undone  
save me from the nothing I've become  
I've been living a lie, there's nothing inside  
bring me to life

"This is what you mean to me."

Emily looked at Jake and smiled. "It is beautiful."

"Thank you for bringing me back to life." Jake took Emily's face in both hands and kissed her. He was happy. Since Emily had come back he felt like a new person. No not a new person, he felt like the old person, he was himself again; connected to himself and he was ok with the world and with who he was right here and now.

Tom turned around. "Hey, before you love birds start undressing and getting into it right there in the back seat, you may want to distribute ear plugs."

Jake stopped kissing Emily but didn't let go of her face. He grinned. "I didn't realize you came with a funny side." Everyone laughed as Franklin pulled into JJ's driveway.

Nora and JJ had outdone themselves. The lounge and dining area were beautifully decorated and they had ordered catering from an upmarket service in town. The food was truly phenomenal. Jake thought for a moment how a single meal like this could compensate for months of tasteless hospital food; how a day of unencumbered happiness could erase the months of self-doubt and despair. Well maybe not erase, but at least put them into perspective.

After dinner they cut the wedding cake and settled down in the lounge with slices of chocolate cake and coffee. Nora's mom dropped by to pick up the kids to stay with her for the evening. She also was treated to cake and coffee. When she was ready to leave, Tyler climbed onto Jake's lap and insisted to be driven to the front door. Jake drove past Emily who was sitting on a chair with Chloe and swept the little girl off Emily's lap into his arm and spun the wheelchair in a 360, making Tyler and even Chloe laugh with joy.

JJ observed how natural Jake was with the kids. He smiled to himself; in time Jake would make a great dad. JJ had asked Emily about their plans. Emily had explained that they were indeed planning on having a baby, but that due to Jake's injury her chances of conceiving naturally were near zero. Next year, once their life had settled into more of a routine they would get the necessary medical assistance.

Si, Alan and Jeff disappeared from the lounge. A short while later they returned with a wrapped box about a foot long and wide and several inches high with a big bow on top. Si handed it over to Jake. "This is our wedding present, but you are not allowed to open it yet."

Jake took the box and shook it. It didn't make any conspicuous noises. "So when am I allowed to open it then?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"It's part of a bigger present, but we can only give you the other half tomorrow, so if you opened it now it would spoil the surprise."

"Okay, you guys are such a tease, but if you insist." He rolled up to the sideboard where the other presents that had already been opened had been placed. He put the unwrapped box on top.

As the evening progressed, JJ noticed Jake glancing at the box occasionally. When Si had asked him what they could give Jake and Emily he had told them about his idea. The three had been in immediate agreement and had spent the entire week organizing and getting the necessary permissions and equipment. If today had been a good day for Jake, tomorrow would put the cherry on the cake.

On Saturday morning Jake and Emily drove back to JJ's house. Before she got into the black truck, Emily had gotten one of Jake's large duffel bags out of the boot of her own car and put it in the back of the pickup. It looked about half full. Then she climbed into the cab where Jake was already waiting.

"What was that?" Jake inquired.

"Just some things that JJ said we needed to bring."

"Can you be more specific, Mrs. Sully?"

"No." Emily laughed.

"So you know what this whole big secret wedding present is about then?"

"I have an idea."

Jake leaned over and started to tickle Emily on her waist. "Come on, tell me."

She giggled and squirmed away from him as close to the door as she could, but she couldn't quite escape Jake's reach. She started to slap Jake's hand still laughing. "Stop it. If you don't stop I'll get out and drive in my own car."

Jake relented. With playful exasperation he said, "So this is how it's going to be, huh? Did no one tell you before the wedding that thou shalt honor thy husband and answer every question truthfully?"

"No, sorry I missed that one."

When they arrived at JJ's house, the others except for Corinne and Pete who had other plans for the day were already there. Tom had opted to stay at JJ's for the night. His argument that there was no point in going back to Jake and Emily's apartment if they were coming back in the morning anyway had sounded almost sincere, but Jake knew there was more to it. It didn't bother him.

They gathered in the lounge, Jake and Emily, Tom, Franklin, Nora and JJ and Si, Alan and Jeff squeezed onto the sofa and sharing armchairs waiting for the big moment. Emily got the box and brought it to Jake who was parked next to the coffee table.

Jake held the box up. "You untie the bow, I'll do the paper," he said to Emily. She slipped the red, satiny ribbon off the present.

Jake started tearing off the paper, but the box underneath was taped up as well. Si who was closest to Jake handed him his switchblade. Jake ejected the knife and carefully cut through the tape. When he finally opened the box he was looking at a folded black garment. Recognition dawned on his face. He grabbed the fabric and pulled it out and put his other hand over his mouth to stifle a sob. He heaved, took another deep breath and swallowed hard. Then he had his emotions back under control. He pulled the military jumpsuit all the way from the box and held it out in front of him.

Si who was still standing next to Jake ruffled his hair. "You up to it?"

Jake tried to clear his throat, but still his voice was hoarse. "On my own?"

"Yes, on your own." Si leaned down and picked up the box that had slipped off Jake's lap. He handed it to Emily. "The second one is yours."

Emily took the box from him and pulled her suit out as well. She smiled. "I'm looking forward to it."

Jake was still staring at the suit in front of him. Now he lowered it and looked around the group. "I don't know what to say."

"How about when are we going and who else is coming along?" Alan volunteered.

Jake took another deep breath. "Well first of all, I guess, I should say thank you." He looked at JJ. "Was this your idea?"

"Yeah, I planted the seed in their heads, but the execution is all theirs." JJ motioned at Si, Alan and Jeff.

"Okay, people, this is what's going to happen," Alan started to answer his own questions. "Jake and Emily will get changed now. Then we'll take you guys out to the airfield. We're scheduled to take off in about two hours from now, so no need to rush quite yet. We have all the equipment set up, ready and waiting for you. Emily will jump tandem with Jeff. Jake, Si and I will do a bit of a formation jump. Franklin, if you want you can come on the plane and video, JJ is doing video duty from the ground. I'll record through my helmet as well."

"It'll be a pleasure." Franklin nodded.

"Emily did you bring everything on the list that JJ gave you?"

"Yes, I got everything."

"Good we're all set then."

Emily held the suit up against herself and turned to Jake. "What do you think?"

Jake was startled. "Sorry, what?" He looked up at Emily.

Emily smiled and repeated her question.

Jake smiled back at her and answered. "Dashing." He indicated to her to sit down on his legs.

Emily sat down and Jake hugged her tightly. "Thank you for coming on the jump as well. This will be something we can tell our grandkids about one day."

"I wouldn't miss it."

When they reached the altitude from which they would jump, Jeff with Emily safely strapped to himself, jumped first. The plane circled higher and Jake got ready. Once Jake had put on the jump suit at JJ's house the realization that he would skydive today had hit home and he had been giddy with excitement. Emily had brought his boots and when he had put them on and laced them up his heart had beaten in his throat. Once more his boots were a symbol. He had come full circle. He had thought back to the night when he had put them on in preparation for the insertion into Venezuela. But today the memory was no longer mixed with all the painful emotions of what had come after but with the thrilling anticipation of what was lying ahead.

Jake checked his equipment once more and signaled _ok _to Alan and Si and then they were off. It was fantastic. Jake loved every second of it. He stayed in formation with Alan and Si until it was time for them to release the pilot chutes. With the canopy unfolded and his descent slowed Jake prepared for the landing. He had attached a strap to each leg above the knee so that he could lift his legs in the last moment before he touched down. It was really as easy as that. He touched down and rolled over his shoulder no worse for the wear. Si and Alan landed in close proximity. Jake sat on the ground. He pulled his helmet off and put it in front of him between his legs. Then he leaned back on his elbows laughing loudly. Si an Alan walked over. Si extended his hand to Jake who reached up and shook it. "That was awesome Jake. Well done."

"Thank you guys. That was the best present ever." Alan shook hands with Jake as well. "Jake, we'll never let you jump last again."

Jake looked around for Jeff and Emily. They had landed a bit off in the distance and were already making their way off the field to were JJ's truck was waiting to pick them up.

"Ok, lets gather the stuff and go." Jake gathered the canopy and stuffed it into the pack. Si and Alan came back with theirs.

Si kneeled down next to Jake. "Hey, pull your feet closer to your hips."

"Sure, why?"

Jake pulled his lower legs towards him. Alan crouched down on Jake's other side.

"Because we'll make you walk—sort of," Alan grinned.

Jake got the drift. He hooked one arm over Si's shoulders and the other over Alan's. They stood up with Jake between them. The two were similar enough in height for Jake to hang straight between them. They were also tall enough so that Jake's feet didn't drag on the ground. Each took hold of one of Jake's wrists and their other arms they clasped behind Jake's back. They walked Jake toward the edge of the field to where JJ, Jeff, Emily and Tom were waiting. About half-way Jake had an idea. "Wait a moment, guys. I want to try something."

They stopped. "What do you want to do?"

"Can you lower me a bit so that my toes just touch the ground?"

They let him down a bit.

Jake contracted his right quadriceps as much as he could, which wasn't a lot, but it caused enough flexion in his thigh to bring his right foot forward by about two inches. Si and Alan cheered.

"That was the easy one." Jake grinned broadly. "Now the other." His left quad had even less strength, but at least his foot nudged forward a fraction.

"Thanks, guys. That's about as much walking as I can manage for one day."

They lifted him higher again and took him back the rest of the way to the truck. Everyone except JJ sat on the truck's bed on the way back to the hanger. They chatted excitedly about the jump. Jake sat with his legs apart, Emily in front of him. He was leaning against her back and hugged her tightly towards him with his head over her shoulder. He was content. Life, he decided, could be so much worse.


	16. San Diego, CA, Tue 7 Nov 2147

San Diego, CA, Tue 7 November 2147

The elevator doors to the 56th floor lobby opened and Jake pushed out and turned left towards the door of his and Emily's apartment. It was just after five and Jake was back from the gym, thinking about the written assignment he needed to finish this evening. It was the last assignment of this term and would have to be submitted before midnight. Emily would only be home around six. He noticed a young uniformed police officer walking back from the end of the hallway towards him. He nodded at the officer and was about to push past him, when the man raised a hand and bade Jake halt. "Are you Jake Sully?"

"Yes. How can I help you officer?"

"Can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Sure. What is this about?"

"Could we please go into your apartment?"

Something about the way the officer carried himself made Jake uneasy. "Follow me." He unlocked the door on the keypad and let himself and the officer inside. "Have a seat please." He pointed towards the sofa. The officer sat and looked at Jake who took up position on the other side of the low stone and glass lounge table and looked at the officer expectantly.

The officer cleared his throat. "Are you Emily Sully's husband?"

Jake's chest tightened. "Yes."

The man took off his cap and turned it over in hands. Then he said, "Sir, I am very sorry to tell you that your wife was killed in a car accident earlier today."

He stared at the police officer in shock for a full minute while he let the words seep into his consciousness. Then he leaned forward in slow motion until his elbows came to rest on his knees and put his face in his hands. He stifled some sobs.

The officer continued the embarrassed fidgeting with his cap. "Can I call someone for you, Sir? Maybe you shouldn't be alone right now."

Jake shook his head. Almost imperceptibly he said. "Please leave now. I'll get in touch with you tomorrow."

"Are you sure?"

"Leave!" Jake roared.

The officer got up and left.

Jake left himself fall forward out of the wheelchair. He lay on the carpet in a fetal position and cried. He sobbed uncontrollably, his left fist pressed against his mouth, his right hand wandering over the carpet until his fingers touched the edge of the marble table leg. He grabbed onto the stone and pulled himself closer. Now he was lying flat on his stomach so he turned himself onto his left facing the cold white stone. He started punching it. While tears continued to blur his vision he watched the marble turn red, smeared with trails of his blood. His knuckles were raw, but the pain wasn't enough to dull the pain inside of him. He swung his arm with all his strength and smashed his fist into the flat of the stone. At least one metacarpal shattered. He hit it again. This time an excruciating physical pain overwhelmed him and he pulled his fractured right hand into his chest and held it with the other. He cried for a long time for Emily and for the part of himself that had just died with her.

Eventually the flow of the tears lessened and Jake rolled onto his back. His broken hand was shaking. The phone rang in the pocket of his sweater jacket, but Jake ignored it. He rolled over onto his stomach and pulled himself forward on his elbows until he reached the half open bedroom door. He pushed it open and at the sight of Emily's T-shirt lying next to his side of the bed, he was ambushed by another surge of despair. He pulled himself further until he could grab the shirt with his good hand and pulled it towards his face. He inhaled her smell and fresh tears shot into his eyes.

After a while he moved again, pulling himself forward until he was close enough to reach for the drawer in his nightstand. He yanked the drawer out and pills, vials, needles, syringes, swabs and all the other paraphernalia rained on the floor around him. The phone rang again. Jake rolled onto his side and pushed himself up into a seated position, leaning against his bed. He pulled off his jacket. The phone kept ringing. He pulled it out of the pocket and threw it against the wall. The battery cover dislodged and the battery came out. The phone went silent.

Jake found the rubber tourniquet and slipped it over his broken hand and onto his right biceps. He groped around the floor until he found the vial of morphine. He picked up a syringe and a needle tearing at the sterile packaging with his teeth. He stuck the needle into the vial and attached the syringe, then held the vial upside down between his teeth to draw out the drug. His right hand was shaking so badly that the movement traveled up his arm and it took Jake multiple attempts to find the vein at his right elbow. When he finally drew blood into the syringe, he shot the plunger into the syringe with force and himself into oblivion.

JJ was sitting at his desk in his office reading through some case work. He checked the time. It was a quarter to six. He had another half an hour before he would go over to the gym to play his weekly round of squash with one of his fellow lawyers. He picked another file off a stack when his personal cell phone rang. The number on the screen looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place it. He answered it voice only.

"Major John Sharpe."

"John, this is Franklin, Emily's dad."

The tone of Franklin's voice made JJ sit up. "What's wrong Franklin?"

For a moment there was just static on the line and then Franklin said heavily, "Emily is dead. She was killed in a freak car accident around lunchtime today. A delivery truck plowed through the median and hit her and a colleague of hers straight on, they both died at the scene."

"Oh, my god Franklin, I am so sorry." JJ's thoughts were racing. "Have you spoken to Jake?"

"No, that's why I'm calling you. I've been trying to call him for the last twenty minutes flat, but he's not picking up. It rings and then always goes to voice mail."

JJ picked up a slight note of panic in Franklin's voice. "Maybe he's still at the gym?" JJ volunteered.

"Yes, maybe, but John I have the feeling that the boy is going to do something seriously stupid. As far as I know the police sent someone to notify him as well."

JJ's mind was racing. "Okay, Franklin, you hang tight or if you want you are welcome to come over to my house."

"Yes, thanks John. I would like to do that." His voice was horse and full of pain now.

"Okay, I'll let my wife know to expect you. Let me go find Jake, I'll bring him back with me."

"Thanks, John. I knew I can count on you, I'll be there in about two hours or so."

JJ got up and tried to collect his thoughts. He dialed Jake's number. It rang and then went to voice mail. He didn't leave a message. Next he called Nora. Walking to his truck he explained the situation to her and told her to expect Franklin and Jake to stay at their house for the night. He rang off and started the car, but he wasn't sure where to go. Straight to Jake's apartment or to the gym that Jake went to first? What if he wasn't at any of these places? Should he try to locate the police officer tasked to deliver the news to Jake? No that would be a waste of time.

Police however triggered another thought. He drove over to the military police post on the base. He knew several of the officers and this was as good a time as any to call in a favor. He was lucky. Hal Shipman whom he had known for several years was the sergeant on duty. He grinned at JJ, but his face dropped when he saw the grim expressions on the lawyer's face.

"Hi Hal, I need you to do something for me."

"Sure Major, what's up?"

"Do you remember Jake Sully?"

"Oh, you mean the Marine that came back from Venezuela in a wheelchair? He's a friend of yours, isn't he? Yeah, I remember him. Nice kid."

"His wife died in a car accident today. I'm worried sick 'cause no one can get hold of him. Can you please triangulate the position of his cell phone for me." He gave Hal the number who punched it into the terminal in front of him.

"It's in an apartment block at 5567 Santa Carolina Blvd. I can even give you the elevation. Somewhere between the 50th and 60th floor."

"Jake's apartment—so there's a good chance that he's at home. Thanks a lot Hal." He turned to leave, stopped. "Oh and maybe you could put an ear out with your buddies at the SDPD about some more info on the accident. Her name was Emily Sully."

"Sure thing. And give my condolences to the kid. No one deserves a fate like this. First he's left paralyzed and now his wife dies? How is he going to carry on?"

"That's what I'm worried about Hal."

JJ ran back to his truck and started the engine. It occurred to him that he wasn't allowed to drive into the downtown area with his truck. He switched it off again and ran back into the police station.

"Hal, I know I'm pushing my luck here, but I can't drive into downtown with my truck. I'll get pulled over and time is a bit of a problem right now. Do you think I could take one of the MP cruisers?"

"I can't give you the car on its own, but I'll get an officer to drive you."

"Hal, you're a star."

"Yeah, thank me when you let me know that the kid's still alive."

Driving in a military police cruiser with lights and sirens had the added advantage that they made the trip to Santa Carolina Blvd in about half the normal rush hour time and that they didn't have to worry about parking neither.

During the drive JJ was restless. He tried to call Jake several times, and the last time, just as they turned into Santa Carolina, two blocks up from where they needed to go, the phone had rung and then changed to the unavailable message. JJ hoped that it was a good sign; that Jake had switched the phone off and that it wasn't just the battery running flat.

They pulled up on the curb outside the block and ran inside. JJ shouted to the officer. "Take your medical kit just in case."

The officer ran back to the cruiser and got the case out of the trunk. JJ held the elevator. On the 56th floor the elevator doors opened and JJ ran out towards Jake's apartment. The officer jogged after him. Arriving at the door, JJ hammered at it with his fist. "Jake, for fuck's sake, open the door." When he got no reply, JJ punched the door code Jake had given him into the keypad. The lock clicked open. They pushed through the door and the first thing that JJ saw was the empty wheelchair in the lounge and second the blood on the table leg. He pointed and the officer walked to the table for a closer look.

JJ turned around frantically. "Jake!" Then he saw him. Half hidden from view by the bedroom door Jake was slumped over next to the bed. JJ ran into the bedroom. "Oxygen." He shouted at the officer before he had even felt for a pulse. He felt for Jake's carotid with one hand while he yanked the needle out of Jake's arm and slipped the tourniquet off with the other. Relief flooded through him when he finally felt a faint pulse under his fingers."

The officer was already holding the oxygen mask ready. JJ pulled Jake flat onto the floor and put the mask over his mouth and nose. His breathing was shallow and his lips were blue. JJ made sure the mask created a tight seal. He lifted Jake's eyelids, the pupils were like pinpoints, and when the officer shone his torch into Jake's eyes over JJ's shoulder they didn't react.

"What do you think, Major Sharpe, chopper?"

"Yeah, I'll find a way to authorize that somehow."

While the officer spoke into his com unit requesting a medical helicopter to land on the roof of the apartment building, JJ picked up the vial of morphine and the syringe and put it into his pocket. He got up and lifted Jake onto the bed first then he put him over his shoulder.

"ETA 3 minutes" the officer informed him.

"Good. Let's go."

They left the apartment, JJ raced back to the elevator. It was still on the floor. The officer punched in an emergency services override code to enable direct access to the roof. The elevator accelerated and in less than two minutes they stood ready waiting for the helicopter. They heard it before they saw it approach. Even before it was all the way on the ground a medic had already jumped out, crossed over to JJ and taken Jake from him. While the medic strapped Jake onto the gurney, JJ turned around to the officer. "Thanks a lot. I'm sorry, but I didn't even ask your name."

"Michael, Sergeant Michael Vartain."

"Thanks. For everything."

"Just let me know what happens, Major, will you?" Then he saluted and disappeared back into the building.

JJ got into the helicopter and put on a spare headset. The medic had taken off the oxygen mask and intubated Jake then reconnected the oxygen supply. He slipped an IV needle into Jake's left hand.

"Tell me what you know." The doctor requested over the comm.

"Twenty nine year old male, faint pulse, no pupil reaction. Intravenous injection of an unknown amount of medical grade morphine. Also he's paraplegic—complete L1."

"Habitual drug user?"

"No, he's clean."

"Explains how he has access to morphine. It's not like that's readily available. Not even on the black market." The medic was busy examining the puncture marks on the inside of Jake's elbow and then his hand.

"Pretty bad fracture. I wonder how that happened. Was he in a fight before he knocked himself out on the drugs? Could be an accidental overdose following the injury to his hand."

JJ was about to elaborate on his theory that Jake had broken his hand deliberately, but then it occurred to him that there would have to be an official report and with it the inevitable squabble with the insurance. "Yes quite possible that he got into a fight. He mentioned a few times lately that he was being harassed because of his disability."

When they arrived at the medical center and Jake was whisked away into emergency, JJ found a quiet spot and called Nora.

"Hi Nora, is Franklin there yet?"

"No, he hasn't arrived, yet. But I've taken Tyler over to Mom's."

"Okay. Good. I'll just quickly give you the gist of it. I'll answer questions when I get home. I found Jake unconscious in his apartment. We are now at San Diego County Memorial. He's alive and he'll make it. I'm not sure how long he's going to be here, but I doubt they will discharge him tonight still. I'm going to stay here until I can talk to him. Any significant changes and I'll call you back, ok?"

"Okay."

He closed the feed and walked back into the emergency area. He found Jake, still unconscious but no longer intubated and an ER doctor busy looking at an image of Jake's hand on a large display. "What do you think?"

The doctor turned and looked at JJ. His eyes lingered for a moment on the various ribbons on the chest of JJ's uniform. "Are you a friend or family?"

"Family. We're brothers."

The doctor raised an eyebrow.

JJ laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "Different dads."

He had said it without premeditation, but he truly felt that Jake was his younger brother as much as any blood-relative would have been. He considered the fact that Jake and Tom were identical twins. No, it wasn't about the genes. If he didn't stand up for Jake now, nobody would.

"He's stable, I've administered Naloxone and he's no longer comatose, but it will be a while before he comes around on his own. Now we're just monitoring his vitals. The hand is not as bad as it looks on the outside; two broken metacarpals. This one," he pointed to the one leading to the ring finger, "is a clean break. This one," the one connecting the middle finger, "is splintered, but there is enough substance to align the bones without surgery. He'll just have to have a cast for the next couple of weeks."

"Okay."

"I'm going to set the bone now and put the cast on. Afterward I'm going to inject him with a stimulant to wake him up. He's going to be in pain, but he shouldn't take any painkillers for about twenty four hours—possible adverse drug interaction." He shrugged. "Your brother looks like a tough guy. I'm sure he'll manage for a day, but I'll give you a prescription for oxycodone. He can take that starting tomorrow evening."

JJ felt that the doctor exuded as much empathy for his patient as a bar of soap. "Why are you waking him up then if he's stable and he will be in pain?"

"So you can I take him home; got no space here."

"Understand. That's fine then." It wasn't fine. Not on so many levels; like the public hospitals being hopelessly overburdened. But right now, JJ needed Jake out of here, away from the ever curious ears and eyes of the insurance adjusters looking for any and all reasons to decline benefits. Like, for example, purposefully self-inflicted injuries. Unfortunately Jake's veteran insurance was no different.

The doctor carried on. "Is your brother military, too? I couldn't get access to his medical record."

"Ex-Marine." JJ replied.

The doctor nodded. Then he pointed at Jake's legs. "Severe atrophy in both legs. Is he paralyzed?"

"Yes, complete L1."

"Is he right or left handed?" The doctor carried on.

"Right handed."

"He's going to need assistance while he can't use his hand. Do you want me to place an indwelling catheter?"

"No, let's see how well he copes, first."

"Okay, I'll get the nurse to cath him now. Then he should be fine until the morning."

"Yeah, no worries." JJ was worried, but he didn't let on. He would make a plan.

"Good. Then let's get to work. He'll be disoriented when I wake him up. You probably won't be able to get a straight word out of him until tomorrow morning or so."

"Oh, okay." JJ said, but what he thought was _thank goodness_.

After he had set the bones, the doctor disappeared to look after another patient. An ER nurse took over. She scanned Jake's hand and forearm and instructed the bedside fabricator to produce a molded cast. The machine indicated the remaining production time as eight minutes, so without a moment's hesitation and without saying a word the nurse began to catheterize Jake. She had finished the procedure by the time the cast was ready.

JJ couldn't help but think that the whole hospital process was one of extreme clinical efficiency, not a minute wasted, but at the same time completely devoid of any human emotion and compassion. He thought of the four and a half months Jake had spent in hospital the year before and hoped that it hadn't been anywhere near as cold and uncaring as this.

The cast came in two parts, an upper and a lower shell. The nurse took the bottom half and sprayed a thin layer of foam-like substance into it then she placed it under Jake's hand and arm. It had distinct grooves for each finger and extended all the way from the fingertips to the elbow and more than half over the thumb. It was shaped to allow for the natural bend of relaxed fingers and fit the contour of Jake's limb perfectly. Next she took the top shell and repeated the foam procedure. Then she glued the two halves together on Jake's arm. She turned to JJ who had been watching attentively. For the first time she spoke.

"This spray foam stuff is the best thing since sliced cheese. It pads the cast, encourages the blood flow, wicks excess moisture away from the skin and to some degree it even expands to take up the slack created by the reduction in swelling and any muscle atrophy. His swelling isn't too bad, but if you notice too much play after a week bring him back here to have the cast adjusted." Clinical. Impersonal.

"Sure."

As if timed to perfection the nurse left and the doctor reappeared. They nodded at each other in passing. The doctor injected Jake with the stimulant through the IV in his hand. Then he pulled out the needle. "I'll get you a wheelchair. Please move him as soon as possible. We need this bed for more serious cases." He turned on his heels and disappeared. Yet another nurse appeared with a harness she put on Jake that fixed his arm against his body and a wheelchair she left with JJ.

After a few minutes Jake groaned. He opened his eyes, but they were unfocused. He tried to roll onto his side, but his movements were uncoordinated. When he noticed the cast and his arm strapped to his chest, he looked down at it circumspectly then fell back. Only then did he notice JJ. He blinked and swallowed, but didn't say anything.

"Hey Jake. Let's get out of here."

JJ carried Jake straight downstairs into the den. Nora had already put out sheets and blankets. Jake was half conscious when JJ undressed him. He took off the harness, pulled off his shoes, socks and pants. Then he put him onto his side. Jake didn't resist.

JJ went back upstairs to speak to Franklin who had stayed up and waited for JJ and Jake's arrival. He walked up to Franklin who was sitting at the dining table. His eyes were red, but dry.

JJ put a hand on Franklin's shoulder. "Franklin, I'm incredibly sorry for your loss. I cannot begin to conceive what it must feel like to lose a child. But I know that Jake is taking it very badly and I'm concerned about him. He broke his hand deliberately and he tried to kill himself. I don't want to leave him alone, but we need to get his medications, some clothes and his wheelchair."

"No worries, John. I'll go and fetch it." Despite the grief that was clearly visible on Emily's dad's face, he was a practical man. "Just give me a list of things I have to fetch." After a brief silence, while JJ made a list of those things he knew Jake couldn't do without, Franklin said "You know the saying—the dead only die once, it's the living who die a hundred times. It gives me comfort John, it helps me carry on."

JJ looked up and nodded. He handed the list to Franklin. "Just have a look around. Bring whatever else you feel is necessary."

Franklin took the list and walked towards the door.

"And Franklin?"

"Yeah?"

"You might want to bring something personal of Emily's; something for Jake and something for yourself."

JJ went back downstairs. He pulled a spare mattress from a store room and put it against the wall across the room from Jake. There he lay and started his watch.

Jake woke up with a start. He was lying on his side, not on his stomach the way he normally slept. His right hand was throbbing painfully. He wasn't quite sure where he was at first but then in the pre-dawn twilight he recognized the shapes of the furniture in JJ's den. He was at JJ's house. Where was Emily?

Emily is dead.

A chill settled into his chest and spread through his body. He started to shake. With difficulty because he couldn't use his right hand he pushed himself up into a seated position and reclined against the backrest of the sofa, cradling the cast encasing his broken hand with the other arm. He was still shaking and apart from his hand he felt cold and numb.

He noticed JJ sitting on a mattress across the room, leaning against the wall behind him with his knees pulled up and looking at him.

"Emily is dead." Jake's voice was a hoarse whisper.

"I know Jake, and I am immensely sorry for your loss."

"I can't do it again."

"Yes you can and you will."

Jake didn't say anything for a while, then, "did you find me?"

"Yes."

"I wish you hadn't." Petulant.

"What the hell where you thinking?"

"I wasn't. I can't think about it. I never want to think about it again." Jake squeezed his eyes shut and his expression was drawn.

"And what about the others?"

"Which others?" Jake opened his eyes again.

"Franklin, Tom, me? Do you think it's fair to us if you kill yourself?"

"Fair?" Angry. "Life isn't fair! If life was fair Emily wouldn't be dead and I wouldn't be paralyzed! If you want fair you're on the wrong damn planet!"

"So you believe that because life isn't fair to you that makes it ok to heap some more unfairness on other people who care about you?"

"You said it."

They didn't say anything for a couple of minutes, just sat there looking at each other.

Jake held his broken hand away from his chest and regarded the cast. The lower half of the shell extended below the end of his fingertips, but the upper ended just behind his fingernails. He placed his good hand against the tips of his fingers and pushed. A stifled scream escaped his mouth and he fell over onto his side, his eyes watering.

JJ decided not to say anything at this point. Anything he said could make Jake hurt himself more. So he just resumed his vigil, ready to interfere should Jake try anything that put his life in danger. He thought back to their trip to Whistler and his thoughts about the big crash. It was here; and it was something so life shattering that it brought tears to JJ's eyes. Jake didn't deserve this. He had fought so hard to make himself whole again and despite all of JJ's reservations about their relationship, Emily had been the missing piece in the puzzle. Except for the physical disability, Jake had been his old self; strong-headed and courageous and never taking himself too seriously. JJ didn't try to suppress the tears. He cried for his brother, his best friend and the injustice of it all.

Jake lay on his side, his hand throbbing more than ever, but the tears had dried up. After a while he noticed that JJ was crying—and it touched him. More than any word could have conveyed, Jake suddenly understood what it meant to be loved unconditionally. It sparked a tiny flame of hope. Fluttering and weak, but the tiny little flame in Jake's soul was enough to keep him going for the moment. He rolled himself onto his back and just lay there. Sleep was eluding him and he saw visions of Emily. Her visit to Denver, their wedding, ordinary moments during ordinary days, their last dinner together, but they all faded one after the other. He couldn't hang on to them; the only though that remained was _Emily is dead_.

JJ woke up. It was light outside. He jerked upright looking towards Jake. Jake looked dreadful, his eyes bloodshot and with dark rings, but he was sitting up looking back at him. "Oh my god, Jake. Thank goodness."

"I need to go to the bathroom."

"Hang on. Let me get your stuff." JJ jumped up from his mattress. He ran upstairs, taking two steps at a time. In less than a minute he came back with Jake's wheelchair and a bag. He unfolded the chair and placed it in front of Jake.

Jake stretched out his left arm to hook around JJ's neck. JJ bent down and let him grab on.

"I'm tired of struggling."

"I know you are, just tell me what I need to do." He put the bag on Jake's lap.

Jake slowly pulled open the zipper. He saw clothes, medicines and catheters and tucked away on the side he saw something yellow and brown. He pulled it out. It was the little fluffy tiger that he'd given to Emily the week before their wedding. He pressed his face into the toy and new tears appeared in the corners of his eyes.

"I can't stay here JJ. Everything, everything reminds me of her."

"I understand, Jake. Just stay with me until your hand is healed and you can take care of yourself again."

"I should go to the VA hospital."

"We'll see how it goes. Okay? Right now you can't even drive your wheelchair let alone your truck. So you're not going anywhere. Come on let's get you sorted out." He pushed the grim-faced Jake into the bathroom.

Nora was on duty, but JJ had called his office and explained the situation. His colleagues had agreed to take care of the few legal proceedings he had scheduled for this week so that he had called his superior and asked for leave for the rest of the week. It had been granted.

When JJ brought Jake upstairs, Franklin had already been up and dressed, making arrangements for the funeral. Once he put the phone down he walked over to the dining table at which Jake sat stone faced. Over his T-shirt he was wearing the harness again that secured his broken hand against his chest. Franklin pulled up a chair next to Jake. He put his hand on Jake's shoulder who dropped his head forward then turned it sideways and up, not quite meeting Franklin's eyes. Silent tears were slowly making their way down his cheeks again.

"Jake, the dead die only once. It is the living who die a hundred times."

Jake raised his head and looked at the ceiling, his mouth opened and a desperate wail escaped from it.

"Jake, Emily would have wanted you to live. She never gave up."

Jake finally looked at Franklin, but he still couldn't say anything.

"When she tried to talk to you after Christmas last year, she was devastated that you wouldn't tell her what had happened, that you shut her out, but she never gave up hope that there would be a happy ending. When she came back from Denver she was happy. She was the happiest she had ever been since she was a carefree little girl."

He paused for a while. His eyes were unfocused like he was looking at a long distant memory of Emily as a child, running around the house giggling. "Emily was my only child and you gave her the happiest time of her life. I cannot thank you enough for that. No one of us knows when our time is up, Jake. You almost died in Venezuela, but you clawed your way back and you gave my girl a happy ending to her story. It helps me to know that my little girl died happy." He paused, "I believe that in time there will be a happy ending for you too."

Jake's voice was choked and full of emotion when he answered. "I don't believe in happy ends. In my life there have never been any happy endings. Every time I come within inches of the summit I get thrown off the mountain. And every time I fall further and harder and right now I don't even know which direction is up." He paused and when he spoke again his voice had regained a bit of strength. "After I broke my back, I could only come so far, but then Emily came back into my life and she pulled me up the rest of the way and now, and now she's gone …" He leaned back and closed his eyes and clamped his left hand over his mouth.

"I know Jake, I know." Franklin got up and walked over to the kitchen counter. He poured himself and Jake a coffee. JJ was leaning against the counter following the exchange in silence. Now he grabbed his own mug and joined Franklin and Jake back at the table.

Franklin put one mug down in front of Jake. "Jake, I want you to tell me about what happened in Venezuela."

JJ looked at Franklin in surprise. Then he understood and nodded.

Jake looked confused. "Why now?"

"Because I want you to remember that you have done it before. You have fought back before."

"You know all I ever wanted was a single damn thing worth fighting for, but this," he looked down at his legs, "this is not worth fighting for. I can't do it."

"Jake, please." Franklin's voice was quiet but determined.

"Do you really want to know what it's like to wake up in a hospital bed not able to move anything other than your arms and your head? And then to be told with certainty that you will never walk again?"

Franklin nodded.

"The enormity of that reality takes your breath away. It was devastating and I have never felt so lonely in my life. Do you know how many nights I lay awake thinking of Emily? Trying to figure out what I did to make her walk out on me for good? Hoping against hope that the door would open and she would walk in and say 'Hi Jake' like nothing had happened and at the same time being horrified that she may actually do it? To hear her say in my mind 'I didn't want you when you were healthy, why would I possibly want a cripple?'" He paused for a moment, but neither JJ nor Franklin said anything.

"It took me a year to be able to face her, but nevertheless she was my cause. I wanted to prove to her that I was a better man for all that happened—I can't do it again." He pulled the Velcro strap off that held his arm against his chest and slammed the cast palm up onto the table in front of him. The coffee mug was thrown up and toppled over, coffee spilling over the surface and running over the edge. Jake groaned and collapsed onto the table.

It had all happened in a fraction of a second, before JJ or Franklin had a chance to react. Both looked at Jake horrified.

"Oh, shit," was all that JJ managed to say. He got up and pulled Jake up into a seated position, but Jake was out cold.

"Franklin, help me get him onto the sofa." He put both arms under Jake's and pulled the chair back from the table. "Take his feet"

Together they carried the unconscious Jake over to the sofa and put him on his left in a stable position. JJ grabbed a pillow and put it in front of Jake's chest. As he rested the cast on top of it, the hand higher than the elbow, he noticed some blood between Jake's fingertips. "Oh, shit."

He got up and grabbed a ruler that was lying on the kitchen counter and wrapped some tissue paper around it. He slid it between Jake's arm and the cast from the elbow. When he pulled it back it was red with Jake's blood.

"Dammit! Franklin, I think one of the bone fragments in his hand has punctured the skin."

"What do you want to do? Take him back to the hospital?"

"No, that's the last thing I want to do. I'll try to get a doctor from the base to come here."

He got up and picked up the phone. Franklin sat down in the armchair closest to Jake and regarded him thoughtfully.

JJ put the phone down. "One of the doctors at the base here is really good orthopedic surgeon. We're lucky, he's off duty. He said he's going to be here in about half an hour." He went to the bathroom and pulled a towel off a rack then he stuck it under Jake's elbow.

"Good." Franklin looked at JJ. "You know John, I've always had a soft spot for Jake, just like you, but how do you help a man in a situation like this?"

"At the end of the day you can only help him if he wants to be helped, that's the problem."

"But as far as I know he didn't try to kill himself after he found out that he would remain paralyzed—you know that I found out what had happened to Jake two days after he got shot down?"

JJ shook his head.

"Quite by coincidence really, but Dr. Lassiter, the doctor who was treating him at Walter Reed, is a friend of mine. I phoned her on her birthday and she told me about this kid they had just brought back from Venezuela with one of the worst spinal fractures she'd ever seen. I was shocked when I realized it was Jake. So I kept taps on him from a distance. I even pulled some strings for him when he tried to get his knee surgery approved, but I didn't tell Emily then because I felt that if she knew it wouldn't help his recovery."

"Jake mentioned you told her that he's paralyzed."

"Yes, I did, but only in the end of December after she had spoken to Jake. She had asked me long before if I could find out what had happened. It was a steep learning curve for her that she couldn't just always say '_Jump!'_ and Jake would say '_How high?_' That's why I think it worked out between them in the end, because she learned to respect him and to really see him for the person he is."

"I think that was wise," JJ acknowledged. "It's all about perspective. It always is. And secondly it's about believing in yourself. Jake doesn't believe in himself anymore. He made Emily the center of his being and validated himself through her."

"So what you're saying is that he actually never fully recovered in the first place and now he got thrown back."

"Yes, and worse. Because what kept him going was the possibility of a future with Emily. Now he's back where he was without that perspective. I think that's most likely why he tried to kill himself now."

Jake groaned. It was the first sound he had made since they had put him on the sofa. They sat in silence and waited for him to come around. Eventually he opened his eyes and regarded Franklin and JJ in silence, his face drawn.

JJ got up and went downstairs into the den. He came back with another one of Jake's black T-shirts. Jake tried to push himself up, but couldn't because he couldn't use his right hand to bring his legs forward. He fell back onto his side.

Franklin looked questioningly at JJ who shook his head.

Grim faced Jake pushed the pillow out of the way and extended his left hand, grabbed the fabric of his left trouser leg and yanked it forward. The knee shot over the edge of the sofa and his foot dropped on the ground. He repeated the procedure with his right leg a bit more gently this time. Then he pushed himself up into a seated position.

JJ threw him the T-shirt. "Here, make yourself presentable, Corporal, a doctor is coming to see to your hand. And keep that towel under your elbow, you're bleeding." The tone of his voice had taken on a commanding, military quality that didn't allow for any objection.

"Yes, sir," Jake mumbled. Slowly he unfastened the harness and pulled it off then pulled the coffee-stained T-shirt over his head. He took the towel and wiped at the blood that had congealed at his elbow. He stuck the cast through the sleeve of the new shirt with care and pulled it on. He left the harness off but wrapped the towel around his elbow and dropped back against the backrest cradling the cast to his chest with the other arm. He closed his eyes again.

They waited in silence until the doorbell rang. JJ got up and let the doctor in. They shook hands then JJ led him into the lounge.

The doctor walked up to Jake. "I'm Dr. O'Malley and you are?"

"Jake Sully."

"Corporal Jake Sully from First Recon?"

Jake just nodded.

O'Malley sat down on the edge of the coffee table on front of Jake. "Nice to meet you Sully. I worked on your back."

The vaguest of smiles appeared on Jake's face, but was instantly replaced with the same sullen expression as before.

"Can I have a look at your hand?"

Jake extended the encased hand towards O'Malley. His whole arm was shaking.

The doctor took Jake's arm with both hands, lifting it and twisting it and with every movement Jake flinched.

"Apart from the blood, I'm a bit concerned that your fingernails are blue. This cast definitely has to come off. I think the swelling is impeding the blood flow to your fingers. Can we move over to the table?" He made a backwards movement with his head towards the dining table.

JJ pushed Jake's wheelchair up to the sofa. O'Malley stood aside and let JJ help Jake into the chair. While he pushed Jake towards the table, Franklin went and got another towel which he spread over the table.

Jake placed his arm on the table and O'Malley brought a small bottle that held a clear liquid that he squirted into the groove along both sides of the cast indicating the seam between the two halves. After a minute the halves came apart. O'Malley lifted off the top shell, leaving the bottom in place for the moment to stabilize the hand. Jake's hand was a mess. Apart from the swelling that was more pronounced now than when JJ had seen it before the cast had come on, red and purple bruising had spread all around his hand, half way down his fingers and over his wrist, the dried blood had caked most of his pinky and ring finger, the top of his hand and spread along the underside all the way to the elbow. With the pressure off new blood was flowing out of the blood vessel that had been punctured by the sliver of bone that stuck through the skin at an oblique angle.

"Nasty, I'm not even going to ask how you managed that with a cast in place," was O'Malley's only comment. He got a syringe and injected Jake's hand in several places. After a while the hand stopped shaking. He lifted it up carefully and felt the movement of the bones. He looked at JJ. "You said third and fourth metacarpal, right?"

"Yes, that's what I saw on the image."

"They seem to have gotten that right at least."

"So gents, what are we going to do? Obviously you want this little incident to be kept off the books else you'd be at the emergency room and I wouldn't be here." He placed Jake's arm back onto the bottom half of the cast.

"What are the options?" JJ asked.

"Option one. I pull out the bone fragment, reset the bone and leave it to heal on its own. Risk of infection is pretty small but the downside is with the piece missing the bone will stay weak and it could break again when you hit a punching ball at the gym." He got some tape out of his case and temporarily secured the half cast in place. "Option two. We do a bit of field surgery here and I put the piece of bone back and wire the metacarpal together, meaning I thread some titanium wire around and through it. That will make it as good as new, it will also heal faster, but there is a bigger risk of infection. Option three. We'll make you a whole shiny new metacarpal and you'll be fit again in a week. But that requires microsurgery to reattach the muscles and ligaments like we did in your back and you would have to come in for that."

"Three is out of the question," JJ answered on Jake's behalf straight away.

"So Sully what do you think?" O'Malley looked at Jake who seemed to be only vaguely interested in the fact that the discussion was about his hand.

After what seemed like a small eternity he said quietly, "whatever gets me the use of my hand back faster."

JJ considered the comment and wondered if Jake had decided to give living another try or if he just wanted to escape JJ's reach to make another attempt at killing himself sooner rather than later. He hoped for the former.

"Okay, wire it is, Corporal Sully. I'll be back in an hour, I have to get some things, and please don't do anything else stupid with your hand while I'm gone after all the trouble I went through to give you two new vertebrae." O'Malley strode towards the front door.

Franklin turned towards JJ. "Did you know that O'Malley was involved in Jake's spinal surgery?"

"No I didn't. I know him because he fixed my meniscus three years ago and subsequently I dealt with some legal matters for him."

"It's a small world."

Fifty minutes later O'Malley was back. He brought sterile covers, scrubs and whatever else he needed. He threw packs of gloves at JJ and Franklin and placed a surgical cover on the table over the towel. He brought a little tray and tweezers and pulled the piece of bone out of Jake's hand. Jake gasped in pain and surprise. Then he removed the cast from Jake's hand again, made him take off his shirt and took him over to the kitchen sink where he poured bottled water over the hand and arm to wash off the blood. The previous sedation had worn off almost completely and Jake cringed and groaned while O'Malley manipulated his hand. They went back to the table and O'Malley injected more of the local anesthetic. Then while waiting for the sedative to take effect, he swabbed the hand. He picked up a scalpel and cut along the third metacarpal and over the knuckle. Overall it was a rater messy affair. He drilled tiny holes into the bone ends to anchor the wire which was no thicker than a human hair, realigned the fragments and threaded the wire around and under tendons and nerves. When he had placed the wire, he pulled it taught, anchored the other end and closed up the cut. Instead of sutures he glued the fascia and skin back together, safe near the wrist where he put a shunt and used a suture on either side to keep it secured. JJ and Franklin shone lights and held clamps whenever and wherever necessary. Jake regarded the whole spectacle impassively. O'Malley placed Jake's hand back into the bottom shell of the cast, put sterile padding on top and wrapped it with a roll of Co-flex. Then he placed Jake's hand against his chest and wrapped it in place with another roll of the self-adhesive bandage. JJ brought a loose sweat shirt and helped Jake to put it on then took him back to the sofa and helped him across. Jake lay down, his upper body propped up on a pillow against the arm rest. He still hadn't said a single word.

O'Malley walked over to the sofa and stood over Jake. "Sully, I know you're hurting. I've seen it too many times before, but if you do anything like this again you will lose your hand—I'll come back here and cut it off myself and I won't think twice about it." He turned around and went back to the kitchen to collect his belongings. He left two bottles of pills on the counter. Then, once he grabbed his case and duffel bag, O'Malley took a last look at Jake.

Jake finally spoke. His voice was hoarse. "O'Malley—thank you; on both accounts."

Jake closed his eyes. The injections were wearing off again and the painful throbbing in his hand was getting worse. He thought about O'Malley's last comment and decided that it was more than an idle threat. He concentrated on the throbbing pain; it kept the other painful thoughts at bay.

"Jake."

Jake opened his eyes. Franklin was standing next to the sofa, holding a water bottle towards Jake.

"You have to drink something. You haven't had anything to drink at all."

Jake took the bottle from him and took some sips. Then he wedged it between his hip and the backrest of the sofa and closed his eyes again. He heard Franklin walk away and then towards him again. He opened his eyes and tracked Franklin's movement. Franklin moved the coffee table further away from the sofa and placed a chair so that he could look at Jake and Jake could look back at him without turning his head. He sat down.

"Jake did you know that Dr. Lassiter's birthday is the day after yours?"

Jake shook his head very slowly just one movement left and right.

I called her on her birthday last year. When I asked her about work she told me about this young Marine that had been brought back from Venezuela two days earlier with the worst spinal fracture she'd ever come across. I asked where he was from and she said 1st Recon Battalion at Pendleton, so I said I know a few guys from 1st Recon, in fact one of them is involved with my daughter. I said I hope it's not him. She asked for the name and when I gave it to her, you know what she said? She said Franklin, I'm really sorry for you and your daughter but that's him and to be honest I don't think he's going to make it. For two days I tried to make up my mind whether to tell Emily or not and in the end I decided only to tell her if you died. To be honest that was one of the hardest decisions I ever made; to possibly deny her the opportunity to say good bye to you, but I was angry with her and I felt it wouldn't help you if she knew. After two days when I hadn't heard from her I called Serena—Dr. Lassiter—back and she said your vitals had improved that your chances were now fifty/fifty. She said you were scheduled for surgery the next day, but that the nerve damage was so extensive that they wouldn't be able to fix it. Jake that really shook me up, but I was happy when Serena said that you would make it. You are a fighter Jake, I knew you would fight back." He paused and regarded Jake for a moment.

"I pulled some strings to get your knee surgery approved and JJ just put his career on the line for you to keep the suicide attempt and the surgery on your hand under wraps because we believe in you Jake. Please promise me that you won't try to kill yourself or harm yourself again. I don't want to lose another child."

"I can't."

"Jake, you are a Marine; you are the best of the best. The fact alone that you made it out of Venezuela is testament to that. Remember what you once told me that when you went through boot camp and thought you couldn't do another push-up or walk another step that you would tell yourself that you can pass any test? Jake, this is another test. Just think of that. It is just another test."

Jake held on to those two thoughts: _I am a Marine_ and then _I can pass any test_. But it was so painful and so difficult and he was so very tired; but here were two men, two other Marines who were looking out for him. He remembered JJ crying in the early hours of the morning and he realized that, as isolated and lonely as he felt, he wasn't alone. They weren't Emily, they could never replace Emily and they would never be able to give him that sense of normality that she had given him, but they challenged the Marine in him to be stronger and tougher and better than the common man. He wasn't sure if he would be able to live up to their expectations, but the least he could do was to give it a try. He cleared his throat. "I don't know yet if I can, Franklin, but I'll give you my word as a Marine that I will try."

"That's good enough for today."

Jake slept for a while. When he woke up about an hour later, Jake felt like he had woken up from a dream. He felt calm, detached. He tried to sit up and remembered that the surgeon had bandaged his hand against his chest. It was sore, but not as sore as it had been before. With the left on the backrest of the sofa he pulled himself up. Neither Franklin nor JJ were around but he could hear them talking. The sound was muffled, coming from downstairs. He drank some water then he pushed his legs over the edge of the sofa to sit up properly against the back rest.

He thought of Emily. Emily was gone and she wouldn't come back. Had she actually been real? Jake remembered the last three months clearly. Emily's visit to Denver, his move back to San Diego, the time they spent together, the wedding, skydiving the next day, dinner two evenings ago when they had talked about their plans after Emily had told him to his great surprise that she was pregnant, but that it was still too early to tell anyone. He remembered it all, but it all felt unreal. The pain that had torn him apart just hours earlier was just a vague shadow in his memory.

Jake looked for his wheelchair. It was standing a bit off to the side, but out of his reach. On the seat he saw Emily's toy tiger. He looked at it for a while. He had given it to her and he had held it in his hand and tickled Emily's nose with it. She had laughed and grabbed it from him and clutched it against her chest. He remembered every vivid detail, but the emotion was gone. He remembered himself laughing, but he couldn't connect with the laughter anymore.

Jake cleared his throat. Then he called JJ and Franklin.

JJ and Franklin came up the stairs and found Jake sitting up on the sofa. The curiously blank expression on Jake's face set off alarm bells in JJ's head. "How are you feeling, Jake?"

"I don't know. Tired I guess. My hand is sore and my back."

"Do you need any of your medication?"

"Did you bring my whole kit?"

"The black bag from your bathroom." Franklin answered.

"Can I have it please?"

Franklin turned around and went back downstairs to fetch it. JJ sat down in the armchair and regarded Jake thoughtfully. Franklin came back with the bag and handed it to Jake who took out a blister pack and pushed out one of the tablets. He swallowed it with a sip of water.

"What did you take?"

"Diclofenac."

JJ nodded.

"I'm going home."

"But you will need help."

"Yes, I know. Franklin would you stay with me for a while? That should also alleviate any fears you may have that I just want to go back there so I can try to kill or hurt myself."

"I can do that." The concerned look on Franklin's face showed that he wasn't quite sure how to interpret the sudden turn of events.

"I don't think you will try that in any case. At least not right now," JJ stated.

"How do you know?" Jake looked surprised for a fraction of a moment.

"Because you are dissociative."

Franklin looked questioningly at JJ.

"I'm ok with you going back home if Franklin stays with you."

"Well good then. Will you please bring my chair?"

"What's your address?" JJ asked.

"Are you questioning my sanity?"

"No, not your sanity, your memory."

"5567 Santa Carolina Blvd apartment 5612. Happy?"

JJ nodded then looked at Franklin. "Will you take him?"

"Yes, sure." Franklin still wasn't sure what was going on.

JJ got up. He moved the chair closer to Jake and let him grab on to get in. "Franklin will you help Jake into your car? I'll pack his stuff so long."

"Sure."

"Where are my shoes?" Jake asked.

"Downstairs. I'll get them now." JJ disappeared down the stairs and came back with the Skechers and Jake's leather jacket which Franklin had brought as well. He handed the shoes to Jake who slipped them onto his feet, than held the jacket so that Jake could slip in with one arm and draped it over Jake's other shoulder.

Jake looked up at JJ. "JJ, thank you for everything. I know what you did for me. I hope that somehow I can make it up to you."

"As I said before, just be all that you can be."

"I am a Marine JJ, well ex-Marine. I haven't forgotten."

"Good. I'll talk to you soon."

Jake nodded then he looked at Franklin. "Let's go."

Franklin pushed Jake towards the front door. He looked back at JJ. "I'll come get his bag now."

Franklin took Jake outside, helped him into the passenger seat of his car and stowed away the wheelchair in the boot. Then he went back inside to fetch the bag. JJ was waiting behind the door. "John, what the hell is going on?"

"Jake is having a dissociative episode. He has disconnected from his emotions. Have you noticed, he's neither sad nor angry nor happy, he's just—neutral. But at the same time he in in control."

"Is this bad and how long will it last?"

"It's not necessarily bad and I can't tell you how long it will last. Just let me know if his behavior changes significantly, will you?"

"Certainly." He took the bag from JJ. "I'll call you later. I don't know what scares me more; Jake trying to hurt himself to externalize the pain or Jake with no emotions at all. That can't be good for him neither." Franklin turned and stepped back outside.

"We'll see." JJ closed the door behind him.


	17. Dan Diego, CA, Mon 1 Jan 2148

San Diego, CA, Mon 1 Jan 2148

For the first two weeks back at home, Jake had mostly stayed in bed. He had made Franklin take off the bandage that bound his hand to his chest because it had limited his movement to the degree that it had sent his back into agonizing spasms and Franklin had had to inject him to make them go away.

He alternated between episodes of detached emotional numbness and times of intense grief, followed by spells of depression and anxiety when he wouldn't eat and sleep little. He had tried the antidepressants he still had, but unlike the times when he was dissociative but felt in control, they had just left him feeling numb and trapped inside his body. He had thrown them away.

On the weekend, there had been a memorial service for Emily and her colleague which Jake had attended. It was the last place he had wanted to be, but his sense of duty had won out and together with Franklin, JJ and Nora, Corinne and Pete, Si, Alan and Jeff, Emily's coworkers and other friends and a surprisingly large number of people that knew Jake from the Marine Corps, he had endured the eulogies and condolences. He had hoped for detached calmness, but instead the event had brought on another wave of intense grief and anguish and had made Jake feel ashamed that he couldn't control his emotions in front of all these people, most of whom had only known him as an able-bodied, easy-going, stand-up kind of guy—a poster boy for the Marine Corps. Now he was none of these and it had only added to his torment.

O'Malley had been by a couple of times, first to remove the shunt and then to monitor the progress of the bone healing. After two weeks Jake had been able to use his hand again to some degree and he had soon insisted that Franklin go back home. Franklin had been hesitant to leave Jake on his own, but Jake wouldn't back down and the only concession he had made was to modify his promise to that he would not make another suicide attempt.

During the following couple of weeks he had been less volatile, but had remained withdrawn. The emotional detachment he experienced regarding the events of the past had for some time become his normal state of mind. Sometimes he felt like he was observing himself, knowing that his emotional responses were not entirely appropriate, but at the same time uncertain what they should be. Present events triggered emotional reflexes within Jake, but they, too, were modulated and without intensity.

He had declined all invitations during the holiday period; he didn't want to be among people. It was easier if days were indistinguishable from each other. He hadn't resumed his studies. The effort of sorting out the missed assignment and exams had seemed overwhelming. Most of these days were spent listening to music, going to the gym and sometimes playing video games or watching TV.

Jake was sitting on his bed. Aimlessly he flipped through the television channels after he had returned from the gym half an hour earlier and heated one of the ready-made dinners in the microwave. He had resumed his swimming routine some weeks ago, though he swam with less intensity, less determination. It was just a ritual now, not a means to an end. He hadn't returned to pushing weights yet, his right hand was still too week. At least that's what he told himself. He took the grip trainer off his nightstand and started squeezing it absentmindedly.

Jake's phone rang. He had connected it to the entertainment system, so the TV image faded into the background and Si's face appeared in the middle of the screen. Jake hesitated for a moment, but then he answered. The camera light came on indicating the mutual feed.

"Si."

"Hi Jake, how are you?"

"Okay."

"How's your hand?"

Jake lifted his hand next to his head so that Si could see him crunching the grip trainer. "It works."

"Jake I'm downstairs. Will you let me in, please?"

"I'm in bed."

"Then get the fuck out of your bed."

"Go away Si."

"I'm not going away. If you didn't want to talk to me you shouldn't have answered the fucking phone."

Jake sighed then released the lock on the downstairs airlock.

"Thank you!" Si pushed the door open grim faced.

Jake stayed on his bed, just opened the door to the apartment remotely when Si knocked. The door closed and Si walked into the bedroom. "Get up!"

Jake didn't move, just a pained expression appeared on his face.

"I said get the fuck up!"

"I can't even if I wanted to."

"Don't get all dialectical with me Jake. Get out of your fucking bed!"

"Si, please, just say what you have to say and leave me alone."

"No, I'm not leaving. You haven't set foot out of your apartment. You need to get out and we need to talk."

"I can't set my feet anywhere and I have been to the gym," was Jake's recalcitrant retort.

"Don't matter—you're coming with me now."

"I can't."

"Oh, yes, you can." Si leaned forward, grabbed Jake's wrist and pulled him over his shoulder. He straightened up, turned around and walked to the front door with the protesting Jake over his shoulder. On the way he picked Jake's leather jacket off the table then he opened the door and walked to the elevator. The door closed behind them.

"Hey, my chair."

"You're chair is staying at home."

"You bastard. How am I supposed to go anywhere without my chair."

Si was pleased to note that Jake's tone of whiny indifference had been replaced with traces of anger. "Like this."

They arrived at the ground floor. Si stepped out of the elevator and left the building, crossing the short distance to the visitor parking space where he'd left his SUV. He opened the passenger door and put Jake on the seat, handing him his leather jacket. "Here."

Jake pulled it out of Si's hand frustrated and put it on. "Fuck you, Si."

"Likewise you whiny ass bitch."

Si got in and started the truck.

"Where are we going anyway?"

"First we're going for a drive. Then I'll decide what to do with you next."

Jake stayed quiet, his face was drawn, his lips compressed into a grim line.

"Jake you need to get out of San Diego. This place is pulling you down."

Jake didn't respond and they drove in silence for a while.

"For fuck's sake, Jake talk to me. Why do you stay here? What is left here for you to hang around? It can't be your friends, because you're not talking to anyone of us."

"And what do I have elsewhere?"

"For one you have a brother who lives in New Jersey."

"Yes, who I'm not close to and who is going off to another solar system for eighteen years in about eight months' time."

"Well then maybe, just maybe, now would be a good time to get a bit closer."

"Did he put you up to this?"

"Tom? No, he's got nothing to do with it. Have you even spoken to him? Does he even know what happened?"

"Franklin called him."

"So you haven't even talked to your own brother?"

"No."

"Jake you need help. I mean serious psychological help."

"What's the point Si? What for? What purpose would it serve?" Jake's mental safeguards were evaporating and he felt his throat constrict and tears rising in his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Si, just pull over somewhere."

"Sure." They were driving through an area of row houses. Since they had left, the evening twilight had faded into complete darkness and the streets in this subdivision were dark and deserted. Si turned into a short cul-de-sac and stopped at the bottom of the turning circle in front of a large retaining wall. The darkness in this spot was even more complete. He looked at Jake whose silhouette was faintly illuminated in the light of the instrument panel. He was still holding the bridge of his nose. His chest was heaving and all of a sudden he turned his head to Si and the words and tears burst out of him. "Emily was pregnant, Si. We were going to have a baby."

Si shut off the engine as he felt his own throat constrict. He moved closer to Jake onto the middle console and pulled the sobbing Jake into his arms. With a choked voice he said. "I am so sorry Jake. I am so sorry." Si kept repeating these four words over and over and kept rocking Jake in his arms as long as Jake's tears were running down his face.

Eventually Jake calmed down. He pushed himself back up to lean his head against the headrest of his seat and looked at Si who was still sitting on the middle console. This last breakdown and having shared his agonizing secret had been cathartic. Finally Jake felt that for the first time he could think of Emily with affection, without being bowled over by grief. He even smiled a tentative, sad smile to himself.

Si's voice was just a whisper. "Have you told anyone else?"

Jake shook his head. "No I haven't. I can't, at least not Franklin."

Jake smiled his sad smile again then he said very quietly and carefully. "You may as well know the rest of it. She only told me the evening before. She was so happy and surprised. We both were. With my type of injury, conceiving naturally is almost impossible. So we didn't even think it could happen. We even picked names, Sean or Melissa." Jake felt on the verge of slipping back into the dissociative state, but for the moment he still held on.

"Jake I'm glad you trust me enough to tell me. I have always looked up to you. To me you were always the role model, the perfect Marine. _Semper Fi_—always faithful to the ideals of the Corps: honor, commitment and courage. I think it takes a lot of courage to do what you just did."

"It's strange how all of a sudden a concept like courage can take on an entirely new meaning."

"You know, when I was still in Venezuela and after two weeks of uncertainty they told us that you would make it, but that you would remain paralyzed, I thought it would be hard to come back and to see you in a wheelchair, but it was okay—but to see you drown in all that sorrow that was really difficult, because you are the best Jake, the strongest, the guy who takes any adversity in stride and who gets up again every time you get knocked down, but this time I thought you were down for the count."

Jake stared outside into the darkness for a while. Then he said in a whisper, "I almost didn't make it." He started tracing his left index finger along the faint scar on the top of his right hand, back and forth; feeling for the wire, but it was concealed by the tendon above the bone. After another minute or so he continued, his voice still hoarse. "Sometimes values alone are not enough, Si. You mentioned trust. Sometimes you forget who you are and you stop trusting yourself. If you don't know who you are then honor, commitment and courage are just like empty shells. They are just words without meaning because meaning comes from knowing where you stand in relation to them."

They continued to sit in silence for a while, both men in their own worlds. Then Jake said, "I think you're right. Maybe now would be a good time to get closer to Tom. He has made the effort, maybe now it should be my turn. I can always come back here after he leaves."

"I think it would be the right thing to do."

"I would like to go somewhere else now."

"Sure." Si started the engine.

"I want you to come there with me; not only because you have to carry me, but also because I think I will need more of your moral support."

Jake gave him the address and Si entered it into his GPS.

"It's late so it should be empty as well."

"What is this place?"

"It's a crypt."

"Is this where Emily…"

"Yes—I haven't had the courage to go there yet, but I think now would be a good time."

They arrived half an hour later. The building was larger than Jake had expected. It was circular and squat in a neo-romanesque style and without any exterior windows.

The double entrance door had an electronic lock and keypad that allowed family members entry at all hours. Jake, suspended over Si's shoulder again, typed in the key code written on the piece of paper Franklin had given him weeks ago. He had hidden it away in the inside pocket of his leather jacket.

The lock clicked open. Inside there was an outer circular corridor separated from an inner hall by thick, evenly spaced roman columns; the typical flattened arches connecting them were supporting the flat domed roof over the circular inner hall.

Si carried Jake inside. The inner hall was completely dark, but gentle light from the outer corridor fell in through the gaps between the columns. Even in the dim light the marble and granite patterns laid into the floor and walls looked beautiful. Marble benches with dark red cushions were arranged in a circle around the room leaving a large empty space at the center.

"Please put me down in the middle of the floor."

"And now? It's dark in here."

"Here." Jake handed Si the folded piece of paper. "There was a terminal by the entrance, just key in the second number."

Si took the paper and went back to the door. The terminal prompted him for the number and then for a music choice and Si who felt it would be irreverent to shout and ask Jake for his preference selected _Classical_ and _Bach-Requiem_. He didn't know it, but hoped it would be appropriate. Then while the music started playing he walked back into the crypt and sat down next to Jake.

Jake was lying flat on his back. In principle he knew what to expect, but when the music started he felt his throat and chest tighten and he was glad that his brain allowed him the emotional response. Silent tears made tracks down the sides of his face again. The lights in the outer corridor dimmed and slowly, like night falling, the domed ceiling of the inner hall started to glow. It was the glow of millions of stars on a moonless night and each star was a small diamond set into the ceiling. Each diamond had been artificially created from the body of a person, the remaining carbon compressed into the diamond's crystalline structure and polished to take its place in the artificial firmament.

Together with the enchanting music it was breathtakingly and heartrendingly beautiful. First, all stars lit up with the same intensity, but then like in the real night sky, some would be made to stand out more, others less to create the illusion of constellations—and the brightest one was Emily shining down on Jake. Jake pushed himself up and rolled himself over so that his head came to rest against Si's chest and one more time he cried for Emily and the baby and the future that would never be.

Eventually all the stars faded completely except for the one and the music faded to a gentle background murmur.

Jake sat up, pulling in his legs into a cross legged position. His voice was hoarse again when he spoke aloud towards the single star. "Good-bye Emily. Thank you for the wonderful time we had. Thank you for giving me strength. Thank you for bringing me back to life. You have shown me that it's possible. It must be possible again."

This time it was Si's throat that constricted and he shed some silent tears both in sadness and in gratitude.


	18. New York, NY, Mon 5 Feb 2148

New York, NY, Mon 5 Feb 2148

Jake keyed the code into the door lock of the tiny cubicle of a place he had moved into over the weekend. Once again he had gone on a road trip to get to his new destination, driving across the country after packing up his stuff in San Diego three weeks earlier. He had been surprised by how much open space he had encountered on his drive through the Midwest, though the empty expanses to the left and right of the highway were all fenced off with hazard signs indicating the area to be inhospitable. In some places the signs had even urged people not to exit from their vehicles and leave the area as quickly as possible due to elevated radiation levels. _No kidding,_ Jake thought when at one point the environmental hazards display in his truck's console had shown radiation levels in the red zone. He didn't need to be concerned about that as long as he stayed in his truck and didn't open the windows. Radio-protective coating was part of the truck's body and windows. Its electronic breathing air system ensured the cab was closely sealed and carbon dioxide and other pollutants were stripped from the air to maintain a comfortable environment. But he definitely wouldn't want to break down in this place.

He had driven for long spells and stopped only when necessary to get some sleep, food or refuel. Only once, near Tulsa, had he actually checked into a motel to get more than the few of hours of sleep otherwise spent sitting behind the steering wheel or lying down in the back seat. His first stop however had been Long Beach where he had given all of Emily's belongings to Franklin, including the toy tiger.

He had considered taking it with him to New York as a tangible reminder, but in the end he had decided to leave it behind like everything else. The dissociative episodes had stopped and he also no longer felt crushed by his memories, but he was still too raw to be reminded of what he had lost on a daily basis. It was not like he could forget anyhow. The bottom line was that he was much more cynical than he used to be, but he was also starting to regain his ability to recognize beauty when he saw it.

Invariably these small moments of happiness were tainted by the sad realization that he would never again share them with his wife, but like Dr. Lassiter's words had been a mantra for him to help him come to terms with his devastating physical injury, Emily's star helped him come to terms with her absence. He thought of it not in terms of her physical remains, but rather as a little hole in time and space through which Emily looked down on him and willed him to carry on, to once again start looking for that elusive purpose that would take him beyond his physical limitations. Jake had never given much thought to matters of spirituality, but this little allowance in his otherwise starkly rational and materialistic view of the world seemed justifiable. He hadn't gone back to the crypt after Si had taken him on New Year's Day because the experience had been so profound that he didn't want it to be tainted by another, less perfect occasion.

Jake knew that he owed Si big time for doing what he had done. By physically dragging him out of his bed he had pulled Jake out of his funk and by leaving the wheelchair behind, he had been forced to confront the fact that he was cornered and entirely at Si's mercy. He hadn't felt this helpless since that day at Walter Reed when his physio therapist had taken him out of his bed and laid him on a mat in the treatment room for the first time. Similarly Si had forced Jake to trust him as friend and as a fellow Marine. For Jake it had been a proverbial leap of faith, but he had done it and Si had caught him and he was better for it.

When Si had taken him back home and carried him back upstairs, Jake had invited him to stay. They had talked for many more hours and in the end it had really been a turning point for Jake. He had been able to express his gratitude to Si and it had further cemented their friendship.

Jake looked around his new home. There was nothing homely about it, more like a utility cupboard if anything. It was tiny, ten by fifteen feet with a single fold-down cot attached to one wall and a fold-down table that bisected the cot making it double as seating for the table. On the opposite wall were three hatch-like doors. The one closest to the entrance was the one that led to the tiny bathroom, more an all-in-one shower cubicle and toilet really. The next was hiding a fridge, tiny sink, above it a microwave and even further up shelves with dishes and glasses, too high for Jake to reach from his wheelchair, even the microwave was problematic. The third hatch was a tiny walk-in closet. The upper half of the back wall was covered almost entirely by a wall mounted display and below were open shelves. Jake had distributed his clothes and other few personal belongings on these shelves and the lower half of the closet. Some more unpacked bags lay in front. No wall had an external window. Jake gave the voice command for the overhead light and the ceiling lit up. This at least provided a spectrum of light close enough to natural sunlight to make the place tolerable.

The only appeal this place had for Jake was the fact that it was on the ground floor. All the buildings in this area were so run down that he didn't trust the elevators any further than he could walk. He had found a job as dispatcher with the local police department and his_ box_ as he called this place was close enough to get there on his own—walking distance would have been the common term, but he didn't think it was the appropriate term to use in his case.

Jake put his phone into the entertainment system docking station and flipped through some channels on the TV; several hundred channels and nothing worth watching—as usual. He selected his music collection instead and loaded one of his play lists, rock ballads mostly. He wasn't in the mood for anything more hardcore at the moment.

Using a voice command, Jake dialed JJ's number and the music volume adjusted automatically. JJ answered after a couple of rings. His shaved head appeared on Jake's wall-mounted display and the camera light came on.

"Hi Jake. How was your first day at work?"

"Pretty good. It's really not rocket science."

"So what you doing?"

"Just training for the first week, then I'll be answering calls, triangulating positions, dispatching units. I'm the person on the other side of the radio for a change."

"Should be pretty interesting."

"It'll keep my busy if nothing else until Tom leaves. I'm not planning to stay beyond that. New York is a total dump. The water restriction here on the East Coast is the worst. I have no clue how Tom has managed to live here for so long." Jake moved from his wheelchair onto the cot. The camera tracked him automatically. He grabbed each leg and pulled his shoes off then threw them into a corner.

"So how is it going with Tom?"

"So-so." Jake shrugged. "We've had some good chats mostly talking about stuff from when we were still kids, but I'm just not into all of his tree hugger crap and then he gets upset and things just go down from there."

"So are you thinking of leaving again?"

"No, I said I was gonna make the effort. I'll see him off. I won't see him again for eighteen years or maybe never. It's not the safest of trips or safest of places to go."

"Good decision."

"I've left my truck in Princeton with Tom. He's got a second parking spot he's not using and I don't need the truck on a daily basis."

"Doesn't that limit you too much?"

"No it's okay. I can take the train to get to Tom's place and a cab if I need to get around locally. It's cheaper than to pay for parking here."

"I see."

"You've got no idea how expensive this place is. I pay more here for this dingy little box than for my one bedroom in San Diego, but it's close to work and there's a gym around the corner. It's okay for a couple more months."

"So how are you holding up otherwise?"

"I think I'm doing okay all things considered."

"Are you in touch with any of the other guys?"

"I'm talking to Si quite regularly on the phone and on email. He's gonna come up for a visit in March. I am looking forward to that."

"Good. I'm glad to hear. What else is new?"

"Lost the movement in my quad. I could never make the left one work, but I realized this morning that the right one's also too weak now to raise my heel off the floor."

"And how do you feel about that?"

"It's okay. It doesn't make any difference. With or without that muscle I still can't use my legs. And you know what? Even if one day I get enough money together to pay for the treatment and the operation, it could still be many more years until I can walk again, if ever without crutches. Still, given the chance I think it's worth a shot."

"Remember Sean in Whistler? How well he was doing a year later?"

"Yes, but his injury was a lot less severe. He didn't need to grow any nerves back and his paralysis was incomplete. Most of his muscles were weak, not entirely disconnected. All I'm saying is that I am not expecting the treatment and surgery to be a miracle cure after which I can just stand up and walk out the door as if nothing ever happened—not that it's very likely that the treatment will happen in the first place in any case."

Jake noticed that JJ's facial expression had changed. He was noticeably more relaxed and smiling at Jake."

"What did I just say?" Jake was confused.

"It's not so much what you just said but how you said it. I think you have arrived at the point now where you can really move forward with your life. It's no longer about what you have lost and who you need to prove to that you are still the man you used to be. In fact you acknowledge that you can never again be that same man. That you don't need to prove anything to anyone—and that's good."

Realization dawned on Jakes' face. "You're right. I didn't see it that way, but you are spot on."

"I am really proud of you!"

"Thanks. I am happy I can still make you proud. And thank you again JJ, for everything that you've done for me, particularly this." He lifted his right hand. "I would never have gotten the job here otherwise."

JJ nodded towards the camera. "Any time. Jake. Any time."

There was a knock on Jake's door.

"I gotta go JJ." Jake was pushing himself towards the edge of the cot to get back into his wheelchair. "I'm getting a new toy."

"What is it?"

"I'll tell you about it next time we chat."

"Okay. Chat soon. Bye."

"Bye JJ." Jake was already rolling the few steps towards his door. He opened.

"Hi there, Jake Sully?" The man in front of the door was nondescript, maybe a few years older than Jake. He was wearing a shirt with _Hub Surgical – caring for people since 1983_ embroidered on it, below it a name tag that read _Charles_.

"Yes, that's me, come in."

Jake spent the next two hours with Charles as he put up rails and other equipment that Jake could use to hold on to for balance. Then Jake got into the lower body brace he had had fitted and practiced getting up by pulling himself upright using the ladder Charles had installed on the wall at the foot end of the cot. Jake was struggling with his balance at first, using underarm crutches to pull himself across the room; the last time he had done this had been more than a year ago, towards the end of his rehab. It wasn't that he had any illusions about improving his mobility this way—on the contrary. It was a far more cumbersome way to move, but the limited space in his box made it necessary for him to be able to reach the microwave, dishes and higher up shelves and more importantly to use the bathroom properly since the space between the shower, basin and toilet was too tight to accommodate his wheelchair.

When Charles had left, Jake pulled a meal out of the fridge and stuck it into the microwave, for the first time without struggling to open the appliance's door and place the dish on the carousel. Then he took a plate and glass from the shelf above and put it on the sink. The microwave pinged and he took out the food and put it on the plate. He dragged himself across the room again to sit down, on his cot first, releasing the hip joints so he could bend at the hip then the knee joints and let himself fall onto the cot. He pulled his wheelchair closer and pushed across. What the brace provided in stability it limited in mobility, but he would make it work.

While he ate his supper, he thought about his earlier conversation with JJ about the spinal treatment. Statistically there was about a thirty percent chance that four years after beginning the treatment he would achieve full functional recovery, which as far as walking was concerned, was defined as the ability to walk a mile unaided. More realistically in his case it probably meant four years of daily grueling passive and active physio therapy at the end of which he would very likely be able to walk short distances without crutches and longer distances with, but he would probably never be entirely pain-free and he had no illusions that he would be able to run again. So if ever the opportunity arose would it be worth it? Most definitely he decided, even if all he could achieve was to be able to stand up on his own and lift his wheelchair up those pesky curbs and stairs. _I hate stairs_.


	19. New York, NY, Thu 28 Mar 2148

New York, NY, Thu 28 Mar 2148

Jake stared at the time display on his monitor in the dispatch station and willed the minutes to go by faster. It was an unusually slow day at work and he had another half an hour left in his shift. Jake impatiently waited for George to arrive. He had to hand off the ongoing radio traffic to him before he could leave. He hoped that for once George wouldn't be late. He usually only arrived five minutes before the end of Jake's shift which commonly meant that Jake had to work longer than his shift required. But not today. Today he needed to get out as quickly as possible to make it back to his place before Si arrived. He had impressed the urgency on George and threatened to break his nose if George made him late. It seemed to have worked. George walked into the room at a quarter to six. Jake handed over and left the station. He checked his phone. It displayed another message from Si saying that he was on the ground and heading towards the cabs. _Shit_. Even in rush hour traffic that meant that Jake had only about forty minutes at best before Si got to his door. It would take him ten minutes to get home, not because of the distance, but because of all the people choking the sidewalks.

Eventually, with his frustration almost at a boiling point, Jake reached his place. People's ignorance offended him, how everyone seemed to be lost in their own misery, not paying attention to the world around them. Sometimes he could almost see Tom's point, but maybe this world was too far gone, beyond the point of return where an individual could make a difference. But wasn't that his duty as a Marine? Wasn't it his duty to make a difference? _How do you stand up for something if you can't stand up?_

Jake chased the thoughts away. He would chat to Si about that later, now he had more urgent matters to deal with. He put on the brace and got out of his wheelchair. His balance had gotten much better over the last couple of weeks but nonetheless he had to be careful not to fall over. In the close confines of his box that could easily mean nasty bruises or worse if he banged against the table or cot or walls. Jake pulled himself into the bathroom on his crutches. When he reemerged he checked his phone again. Another message from Si. _Cab driver says another 15 minutes or so_. Sent five minutes earlier. So probably about ten minutes till Si would arrive. Jake had traded all his shifts for the next three days so that he and Si could do whatever they felt like. He made some coffee then he took up position next to the door, leaning against the wall. He hadn't told Si about the brace and he was looking forward to seeing the look on his friend's face when he found Jake standing behind the door instead of sitting down in his wheelchair.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Si banged on his door. "Open up Jake, the Navy is here," came his muffled voice through the door.

Jake moved himself into position behind the door then he threw the crutches onto the cot and just held on to the solid handle on the wall next to the door. He pressed the button and the door slid sideways. The look on Si's face was priceless.

"Hey, welcome to my letterbox." Jake was laughing.

"Jake, oh my god." Si dropped his bag and took a step forward to hug Jake.

Jake returned the hug but made sure he maintained a firm grip. "Hey careful, don't throw me over. I've got no balance."

"No worries, mate." He let go of Jake and looked around the tiny apartment. "Wow, letterbox is an over overstatement." He grinned and looked Jake approvingly up and down. "And now?"

"Now I need you to give me my crutches back so that I can move."

When Jake had maneuvered himself back onto the cot he stripped off the brace and pushed it underneath. Si grabbed his bag and slid it under the cot too at the far end then he grabbed Jake's wheelchair, unfolded it and sat down in it opposite from Jake.

"What's with the long hair Jake?" Si leaned forward to try to ruffle Jake hair, but Jake caught his hand and spun the surprised Si sideways. Jake grinned. "Be careful with equipment you don't know how to use. You could seriously hurt yourself and then who's gonna carry me around in the future, huh?

Si laughed. "Point taken, trade?"

"No, I'm comfortable here, but why don't you get us some coffee?"

"Sure" Instead of getting up Si rolled towards the open kitchenette hatch. Jake folded down the table over the cot and Si brought the coffee pot over. "Where are the mugs?"

"Above the microwave—one of the reasons I got the brace."

"I see. Do you ever go out with it?"

"The brace? No, never, way too cumbersome. Even with the crutches my balance is tenuous at best and I can't stand up using the crutches, only with the ladder." Jake pointed at the ladder at the other end of the cot.

Si nodded, got out of the wheelchair and got two mugs from the cupboard. Then he sat down on the cot across the table from Jake.

"So what's the plan for this weekend?"

Jake poured coffee for Si and then for himself. He grabbed his mug.

"Tomorrow I was thinking we'll go out early to Princeton and fetch the truck and drive out towards Cape Cod. Saturday and Sunday we spend around town. What do you think?" Jake sipped his coffee.

"Sounds like a plan."

They chatted about the flight and the traffic and the miserable weather in New York. Then Si said. "I'm actually quite hungry right now. Shall we go grab a bite to eat somewhere?

"Sure, there's _Saul's_, a burger place around the corner. It's a bit rough, but the food is decent."

"I don't mind rough."

"Okay. Let's go."

They had burgers and beers and on the way back to Jake's place they picked up a six-pack for the rest of the evening. They settled in. Jake propped himself up on his cot on some pillows and Si had unrolled the self-inflating mat and sleeping bag he had brought and made himself comfortable on the floor. Jake grabbed a blister pack of pills off the shelf on the wall above his head, but it was empty. "Shit," he muttered.

"What?" Si asked, busy slipping into his sleeping bag.

"Have you ever heard the saying _what you don't have in your head you have to have in your legs_?"

"Yeah. My grandmother used to say that to me when I was a kid."

"Same here, but it's a problem if you don't have legs." He held the empty blister pack up. "Would you mind?"

"Of course not. Where is it?"

"Just get the black bag from under the sink in the bathroom. It's all in there."

Si extracted himself from the sleeping bag again to fetch the bag. He handed it to Jake. "What are you taking?"

"Just a mild painkiller and anti-inflammatory."

"Is your back always sore?"

"No not always, mostly in the evenings, but some days I wake up in the morning and I can't get up because it hurts so much. It's much less often now than it used to be. Maybe once or twice a month. That's when I take one of these." He held up an injector vial.

"What's that?"

"Meperidine. It's similar to morphine." He put the vial back into the bag and put it onto the floor next to the three cans of beer that were lined up there, waiting to be opened. He took the first one and popped the tab.

Si crawled back into his sleeping bag and propped his head up against his pack. He also opened a beer and took couple of swigs. "Jake did you ever wish that you hadn't made it out of Venezuela alive?"

"Not initially, no, but I did after Emily died. I suppose JJ didn't tell you, but I tried to kill myself that day."

"But he found you?"

"Yes, with a few minutes to spare. Franklin had a hunch and he got JJ to look for me."

Recognition dawned on Si's face. "Now I understand what you meant on New Year's when you said you almost didn't make it."

Jake nodded. "Do you believe in fate, Si?"

"I can't say I do."

"It's a concept I struggle with as well, but sometimes I can't help but wonder."

"What do you mean?"

"When I was seventeen, I almost had my left arm amputated after I shattered my elbow. Right here." Jake put the edge of his hand high up on his left arm. "It took a long time to come right, but after about two years my arm was a hundred percent again."

Si was looking at Jake, sipping his beer.

"Then just about ten years later I fall out of the sky and shatter my back. Except this time there will never be a full recovery."

"But what if you do get the treatment after all?"

"This has been one of the hardest things for me to accept, that even with the treatment, the best I can realistically hope for is to walk with crutches and this may sound strange to you, but at this point in time with regards to mobility I prefer the wheelchair over crutches."

"I still don't get what this has to do with fate?"

"I almost died from my injuries in Venezuela. For the first three days after I arrived at Walter Reed they didn't expect me to live. Then last year, I OD'ed on morphine and JJ found me with minutes to spare. And if you look at it, it was an extremely unlikely chain of events that made JJ find me and get me to the hospital in time; even less likely than winning the jackpot in a lottery to pay for the spinal treatment. So I have had two disabling injuries and I nearly died twice as well and yet I am still here—and I wonder why? Is there a purpose to all of this? Where does it lead? Are we really in control of our destiny or is it just one big illusion?"

"You are making my head hurt Jake and I think for me the illusion is good enough right now."

Jake smiled knowingly. "How are the other two reprobates?"

"Alan spends all his time at the shooting range, he wants to beat your record acquisition times and Jeff is chasing after some woman called Grace, but I haven't met her yet."

"So up to no good, as usual."

"How are things with Tom?"

"Complicated as ever. I usually go to Princeton on the weekends, unless I have to work and the one thing that has definitely improved is that he doesn't project as much guilt anymore about me being in the wheelchair. But with regards to our goals in life we just can't seem to find common ground. Now that I'm no longer in the Marine Corps he has moved his attention to the fact that I've started studying weapon's design—and I am planning on resuming that when I come back to the West Coast. So now his gripe is about me building things that will kill people, instead of doing the killing myself."

"So when will you be moving back?" Si had emptied his beer and was squashing the can in his hands. He put it on the floor and picked up another one.

"At the end of August, after Tom leaves. I may not come back to San Diego though. I haven't decided yet. Maybe I'll go to LA or maybe even to back to Denver."

"Why not SD?"

"Because I have to live my own life again. What if you or JJ get a new commission somewhere else? Am I supposed to pick up and move every time you get sent somewhere else as well?" Jake drained the rest of his beer and squashed his can, too.

"Aaaw, but I will miss you…"

Jake threw his crushed beer can at Si and hit him squarely between the eyes. He laughed. "Jeez and I trusted you to have my six? No wonder I ended up where I did."

Si laughed, too and wiped the spray of beer off his face that had escaped the can on impact. "You better be careful what you say now or I might just have to beat up a cripple."

Jake beckoned Si with both hands. "Bring it on."

Si launched himself at Jake. Jake pulled one of the pillows out from behind his head and swung it sideways at Si. Si landed on top of him but scrambled back and grabbed the pillow from Jake's hand. Jake held on so that Si effectively pulled him up into a sitting position then he grabbed the other pillow and they embarked on a lengthy pillow fight. They collapsed into heaps of laughter when one of the pillows burst and rained little pellets of filling all over the room. "And I thought this only happened in movies," Si said, sitting back on his mat. He grabbed his sleeping bag and slipped back into it. They chatted a while longer over another beer. When they finally turned off the lights Jake lay awake. After a while he said. "You still awake?"

"Yup."

"I'm glad you're having my back. I wouldn't want it any other way."

They got up early the next morning and took a maglev train to Princeton. They got Jake's truck from the garage at Tom's condo, but instead of driving north towards Cape Cod they spontaneously decided to go to Gettysburg instead where they spent the day at the National Military Park and the Civil War Museum. After their tours it was time to drive back to Princeton to meet up with Tom for supper. On the interstate Jake put the truck into auto-pilot to follow the automated lane tracking and guidance system almost all the way back to Princeton.

They traded stories from their childhood and from when they were teenagers and Jake explained how he had dreamed of becoming a professional snowboarder and how his first accident had put an end to that.

"So when did you decide that you wanted to become a Marine?" Si asked.

"I always wanted to do something that involves being physically active, but it wasn't until about six months after I finished high school that the idea really took hold. It was a challenge I gave myself. They get what, eighty thousand applications every year?"

"But you didn't join straight away, why?"

Jake shook his head. "No, I was almost twenty by the time I finished school and my grades were so shocking that I had to make sure I would outclass everyone else in physical ability. So I worked construction for three years while I put myself through an exercise regimen like daily fifteen km trail runs with a twenty kilo backpack and I spent a lot of time at the shooting range as well and it paid off, didn't it?" A pained look appeared on Jake's face.

Si raised and inquisitive eyebrow. "What paid off?"

"Three years of hard work to get in and another four to rise through the ranks to be in a wheelchair by the age of twenty eight." Jake looked at Si and his face was drawn. He put his thumb and index finger together with just a small gap remaining. "As you know, I was this close to being promoted to Sergeant. I did all the classes, passed all the exams already, but because of some stupid technicality they wouldn't give it to me yet and then they kicked me out without even considering any alternatives. I suppose a guy in a wheelchair doesn't fit their ideal public image, unless he's a vet."

"You've never been this cynical before, what happened?"

"I'm just saying it as it is. Life's a bitch sometimes—but regardless, I'm still a Marine, Si. I still believe that I can make a difference somehow—just not sure how at the moment." Jake was silent for a moment. "Think of the Gettysburg address. Lincoln spoke of freedom and true equality. I think we are further away from these ideals of the Declaration of Independence than ever before; _'a government of the people, by the people, for the people'_. That's what we're supposed to be fighting for. Not some corporate interests that will only benefit a select few."

Si was frowning. "So how do we make a difference?"

"I don't know." Jake said with a heavy sigh. "It's a question I've asked myself many times. How do I stand up for something if I can't even stand up anymore?"

"Why must the one inform the other?"

"I deal with prejudice every day. Can you see the movie that's playing behind people's eyes when they see me? '_Poor man, so young, it's so sad, he must hate life, I hope I never end up like him'_. How do I cut through the crap and make people see beyond my disability? It's not me that's disabled; it's them because they can't even see beyond their own prejudice."

"You prove them wrong."

"I try, man, I try. Every day I try."

"Jake, you've got nothing if not tenacity. I'm sure that one day you will prove them all wrong."

"Thanks, Si for believing in me."

"I wanted to ask you about something you said last night. You said that even with the spinal treatment you will never make a full recovery. Explain that to me?"

"Re-growing and reconnecting nerve tissue is not an exact science. And there are hundreds of thousands of individual nerve fibers to reconnect. So there would be crossed wires so to speak. After the regrowth is complete some of the nerves may not reconnect on their own at all so I will have to have another serious spinal surgery. But all that means is that the hardware is back in place. Then I will still have to learn how to walk again. So taking all those things into account there is a realistic chance that about four years after I start the process I will be able to walk short distances without crutches. Long walks, running, snowboarding and such will probably never happen."

"I'm sorry, man, but I still think if anyone can do it and get all those things back it's you."

"What if I don't? Would I be any less of a person? Would I be a better friend to you if I could run?"

"Of course not."

"So don't you agree that it's better to have realistic expectations than to rely on a miracle and be disappointed if it doesn't happen?"

"You are perfectly right. It's so easy to fall into the prejudice trap. Even though I know you; but I also know how physical you are and how much of a perfectionist." A slight look of embarrassment appeared on Si's face for a moment. "I guess I'm still seeing things from the perspective that I cannot imagine what it would be like for me to not be able to walk."

"Your perspective changes once you haven't walked for a year. I really appreciate that you want things to be better for me and I understand where you are coming from, but I have accepted that this is who I am. Can you accept me as I am without loading unrealistic expectations on me? Because my brother can't."

"Jake, whatever you are happy with is good enough for me."

"What I would be happy with is to be able to stand up, to walk from one end of a room to the other and back and to be able to pee without having to shove a plastic tube up my dick. That's it. Everything else would be a bonus."

The dashboard computer indicated the end of the automated traffic lane. Jake took over the controls again and they drove the rest of the way to Tom's place.

After supper Tom volunteered to drive them back to New York. It was the first time that he'd been to Jake's place.

"Gee, you weren't joking when you said this place is the size of a letterbox." Tom turned slowly on the spot in the middle of Jake's tiny apartment.

"No, but it works for me." Jake had moved from the wheelchair to the cot. He sat at the end, next to the wall-mounted ladder and was busy strapping himself into the brace. "Would you like a coffee or something before you go back?" He addressed Tom.

"Yeah, coffee would be nice." Tom sat down on the cot next to Jake. "What are you doing?"

"I need to go to the bathroom and it's too narrow for the wheelchair." Jake pulled himself up on the ladder and grabbed the crutches. "Si would you mind making coffee so long?"

"Sure." He stood out of the way to make space for Jake to cross the room and disappear into the tiny bathroom.

Tom regarded Jake wearily from behind his back. When the door had closed behind him he said. "You know, I'll be away for nearly eighteen years, but the pay is very good with minimal expenses. I hope it will be enough that by the time I come back I can pay for his treatment."

Si stopped making coffee, turned around and looked curiously at Tom. "And you would do that out of the kindness of your heart or because you still feel guilty for wishing he was disabled when you were teenagers or because you feel sorry for him?" He motioned with his head towards the bathroom door. "Don't worry he can't hear you—if they got one thing right in these micro-flats it's soundproofing."

"I guess it's all of the above." His gaze flicked away for a moment but then he looked at Si again.

"Then he'll never accept it." He resumed the coffee making.

Tom looked surprised. "Why?"

"You really don't get it, do you? Because there's nothing wrong with him."

"He can't walk for god's sake."

"And? You can't hit a moving target a kilometer away. He can."

"That's different."

"No, it's not. Tom—Jake will never make a full recovery. Even with the treatment he will probably never run, never jump, never snowboard. After years of treatment he may be able to walk a mile without crutches on a level surface."

"That's statistical averages. Knowing Jake he'd do it in half the time and more than that. Once he's set his sight on something he won't stop."

"I tell you now. He won't take your money because it's tied to expectations that he wouldn't even want to meet, let alone being physically able to. He's not a copy of you. He never has been and never will be. However similar you may look. So think about that while you are away; that you need to accept him as he is—now. Only when you are prepared to give unconditionally, only then may he actually accept it."

"Accept what?" The bathroom door slid open and Jake stuck his head out.

"Nothing." Si shook his head. "Just giving your brother some advice for the long journey."

Jake moved across to the cot and sat down. "How's the coffee coming?"

Si poured three cups and put them on the table. Then he grabbed the wheelchair and set down as well.

Tom lifted his mug. "Cheers. What are your plans for the rest of the weekend?"

"We haven't made any plans. We'll do whatever we feel like." Si responded.

"I feel like getting another tattoo. What do you think, Si?" Jake asked.

"I'm up for that." Si looked at Tom. "This is what we'll do tomorrow, get new tattoos."

Tom drained the rest of his coffee. "Well better you than me." He got up. "Thanks for the coffee and thanks for the travel tips, Si. I'll take them under consideration."

"You do that and I'll see you back on Earth in eighteen years. Have a good trip."

"Bye Tom. I'll catch up with you during the week."

"Bye." Tom hit the door button, the door opened and he walked out into the dark corridor, the door closing behind him.

"So what were you talking about?" Jake asked.

"Tom's rescue complex. He feels you need rescuing and I told him that he's wrong."

"Thanks mate. I can't seem to get that into his thick head."

"I don't know if I was any more successful than you, but at least I tried."

Late the next morning they set out to the nearest tattoo shop. They browsed through the portfolio and picked out tattoos for each other. Jake considered having one on his lower leg, but Si protested that it was meant to be a bonding exercise and where was the bonding for Jake if Si was the only one to endure the pain. Jake saw his point and had the large tribal put on his upper arm instead. Si had his tattoo put on his back, on top of his shoulder blade; a Celtic knot of three intertwined, stylized lions.

Later that evening they went back to Saul's for supper. When they had finished they took their beers to the back of the restaurant where a pool table was set up. The table was busy. Jake and Si watched for a while then Jake got some tokens and placed them on the edge of the pool table to challenge the incumbents. They were three men and a woman, the men gruff looking biker types.

"I don't play with cripples."

The man who had made the comment leaned over the table as if to line up a shot, but instead he pulled the cue backwards aiming it towards Jake's head. Jake leaned back reflexively to avoid being hit in the head and a stab of pain shot through his back. He grimaced but kept his mouth shut. When Si saw the pained expression on his friend's face he rushed up, grabbed the guy by the collar and shoved him against the wall. "You did that on purpose. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Si, it's okay. Let him go. He's not worth it."

"No, it's not okay. He can show you some common courtesy." Si drew his fist back to line up a punch at the man's face. "You apologize to him, now."

The other two men were slowly drawing closer. Jake was eying them wearily. He noticed how one of the mends hands was rotated backwards, most likely concealing a knife. Jake positioned himself at an angle at Si's back, ready to intervene.

The man Si was pinning against the wall lifted his hands in surrender. Then he looked at Jake. His eyes were glassy. He clearly had too much to drink. "Sorry, man. Can't you guys take a joke?" The other two relaxed a bit, but the tension was still palpable.

Si let go of the collar, took a step back and lowered his fist.

"I've got wheels, by the looks of things you guys got wheels, so where is the problem?" Jake inquired.

"Ours are faster and we don't need training wheels." The woman, who had hung back stepped forward, passing between the other two. Jake saw her take what he assumed was the knife out of the man's hand. The noise of a blade retracting confirmed his hunch, but she simply slid the knife into the back pocket of her jeans. You would have missed it if you didn't realize what you were looking at Jake thought. She was tall and slender, bleach-blond with short hair and clothes that were hugging her figure, maybe in her early forties. Her features were too average to call her beautiful, but overall she wasn't unattractive at all. She stubbed her cigarette out in an ashtray then extended her hand towards Jake "Wendy. Sorry for these infidels. They've got no manners."

Jake shook it. "Jake."

She turned around to the men in her group. "Come on boys let's play nice." She turned back to Jake and Si. "You two look like soldier boys. Is this how you got hurt?"

"Yes, ma'am." Jake replied. Si just nodded.

She pointed at each of her companions. "Rob, Martin and Flip; actually Phillip but don't call him that or he will flip." She laughed at her own joke and the tension finally dispelled; she was clearly in charge of the group. "Rob why don't you get our upstanding freedom fighters here some beers; so that we can get back to playing pool." She turned to Si. "And your name is?"

"Si—short for Sipho not Simon as most people think."

"Come on Flip, rack up, you and I will play Jake and Si here, first." Flip started collecting the balls and lining them up in the rack.

"Shall we play for something?" Jake suggested.

"Money?" Wendy replied.

"No, money's boring. What kind of bike have you got?"

"Forget it. I'm not playing for my bike."

"That's not what I'm suggesting. So what?"

"A Harley Mission X10."

"Fancy. How about if Si and I win we get to take your bike for a spin?"

"Ok, but what do I get in return if you lose?"

"What do you want?"

She leaned forward and whispered something into Jake's ear.

"For real?" Jake looked at her surprised.

Wendy nodded.

"So it's the four of us, alternating teams against the two of you, best out of nine?" Flip said.

"Deal." Jake said.

Rob arrived back with the round of beers.

Si got two off him and brought one over to Jake. He knelt down next to him. "So what does she want?" He said quietly.

"She wants to sleep with me."

Si grinned. "Lucky bastard. Shall we play to win or lose?"

"We play to win. If she really wants to she'll come back for more."

After eight games they were drawn and their last game in which Wendy and Martin were playing against Jake and Si came down to who would call and sink the eight ball. While Martin was lining up his shot, Jake rolled up to Si. "My shot. If we win we both get something out of it, if not then it's just me." Jake grinned. "Your call."

"No, your call. You decide what you want. I'm fine either way." Si replied.

Martin missed. Jake positioned himself and lined up the balls and cue. Then without raising his head he looked up at Wendy who was looking back at him expectantly. He winked. "Right corner," he said and hit the white ball just above the center. The eight ball dropped into the right corner pocket—and the white ball followed it.

They had played a few more rounds then Si and Jake made their way back to the letterbox. Before they had left, Jake had agreed with Wendy to meet her at Saul's on Tuesday evening. When they arrived outside the door of Jake's place, Si asked "Do you think this is a good idea?"

"What is?" Jake entered the code and the door slid open. They entered and the door closed behind them.

"Picking up a woman who doesn't know you from Adam who says she wants to sleep with you?" Si folded up the table and threw himself onto Jake's cot.

"I'm not planning on getting involved with her. She's just curious I think and I'm curious why she's curious so it's a win-win situation don't you think?" He grinned.

"I just don't want you to get hurt again."

"Do you think I'm being stupid?"

"No, it's just that you seem to be going from one extreme to the next. Five months ago you tried to kill yourself over the death of your wife and unborn child and now you're picking up random women in bars. I'm just trying to understand you."

Jake tilted the wheelchair back and balanced for a bit, contemplating then he did a 360 and sat back forward. "I hear you Si. Emily will always have a special place in my heart, but she's gone and nobody can bring her back." He sat in silence for a while scratching the stubble on his chin. "I overheard something that JJ said to Franklin after I broke my hand the second time."

Si interrupted. "You broke you hand twice?" He looked at Jake incredulously.

Jake nodded. "Yes, I'm not proud of that. I just couldn't deal with the pain—the emotional pain. Anyway. They thought I was out, but I was already coming around. JJ said that I used Emily as a crutch. And he was right. What Emily did for me was to make me feel normal. I needed that at the time. I needed her so that I could feel that I am just like any other guy. Don't get me wrong Si. I'm not saying that I was using Emily on purpose. I didn't really understand the role she played in my life until much later, not until after New Year. I was happy with her; incredibly happy. And when she died I felt that I could never be happy again. But what she has really given me—her legacy so to speak—is to understand that I don't need another person to make me happy. Right here, right now I am happy with who I am; without anybody else having to prop me up. I'm happy with the choices I've made and the consequences. I have no regrets, Si. It has been a very hard and painful twenty months from when I hung in that tree and couldn't feel my legs anymore to come to this point, but I finally, finally know who I am again."

On Monday morning, Tom was sitting at a table in the break room of the RDA training facility near Princeton, staring at the empty coffee mug in front of him.

"What's up man?" Xeno-anthropologist Norm Spellman walked into the room and poured himself some coffee. "What are you thinking about?" He sat down across from Tom.

"I saw my brother and a friend of his on Friday night. I've been thinking about that."

"You never mentioned you had brother. What's his name?"

"Jake."

"Is he older? Younger?"

"Same, well technically he's half an hour younger than me. We're twins."

Norm looked at Tom in astonishment. "We've been in this training program together for nearly three years and you never mentioned that you have a twin brother why?"

Tom sighed. "To me he's like the crazy relative you keep under wraps and hope your friends never meet."

"Why? What did he do?"

"Well, he used to be a Marine—a sniper. He used to kill people for a living. I just can't condone that."

"And what's he doing now?"

"Now he's paralyzed and in a wheelchair and working at the NYPD as a dispatcher."

"Aaah." Norm didn't say anything else for a while just sipped his coffee, while Tom carried on staring pensively at his own empty mug. Then Norm said, "and what are you thinking about now?"

"Something Jake's friend said. He said '_there is nothing wrong with Jake' _about the fact that my brother can't walk anymore_._ I just don't get that. Jake used to be the most physical person I know. He hardly ever sat still. Now he can't do anything but and his friend says there's nothing wrong with him?" Tom shook his head.

"How long has he been paralyzed?"

"Two years in August."

"And they can't fix his spine?"

"Technically they can, it's just very expensive. I was thinking about what it would be like for him if he was to connect to my avatar—if he would be able to walk and run and jump like he used to."

"Why wouldn't he? So you're identical twins?"

Tom nodded. "Don't you think it would be a complete mind-fuck to be able-bodied in your avatar and then when you get out of the link to come back to the reality that you are crippled?"

"Yeah, that must be difficult."

"I just can't decide if it's fortunate or unfortunate that he'll never know the difference."


	20. New York, NY, Wed 21 Aug 2148

New York, NY, Wed 21 Aug 2148

After finishing his shift Jake stopped by his place to get changed. He took off his jacket and shirt and pulled on a black Harley Davidson T-shirt instead. Then he set out again, to get something to eat from Saul's. What used to be Saul's anyway. Saul had sold the restaurant at the end of June, packed his bags and left to live closer to his daughter somewhere in the Midwest. The place had been closed for refurbishment for a couple of weeks then the new owners had opened up again, this time as Alba Restaurant & Bar, definitely aiming for a bit more upmarket ambiance. Jake felt that the place had lost its character and the clientele had changed with it. He still went there because it was convenient for him, but the crowd he had gotten to know, like Wendy and her gang seemed to have moved on to somewhere else. He hadn't seen them since Saul's farewell party.

He had slept with Wendy a couple of times, but they had agreed upfront that it wasn't going to lead anywhere; that what they both wanted was the physical encounter, nothing else. As Jake had expected, Wendy had been curious about what sex would be like with a man whose legs were paralyzed and after a few encounters the novelty had worn off. They saw each other irregularly and never planned, except for that first time. If they happened to meet at Saul's, Wendy would sometimes come home with him, they would sleep with each other and she would leave again, before the night was over. The last time had been after the farewell party and he wasn't sorry about it. He'd be on his way back to the West Coast in two weeks' time anyway.

Jake ordered a burger for takeaway. While he waited for his food, he made his way to the back of the bar where the old pool table had been replaced with a new one and a new, large display was mounted on the wall behind it. As he had expected Wendy and her friends weren't there, but some other people he had met once before were busy downing shots of tequila. They noticed Jake and waved him over. It was five of them, three men and two women, and Jake couldn't remember their names. He rolled over to greet them and was promptly rewarded with a shot of tequila as well. In return put the shot glass on his forehead and balanced on the rear wheels of his chair. The group cheered him on. He grabbed the shot off his head and downed it, still balancing, than he sat forward and slammed the glass upside down on the table in front of him. The group clapped and invited him to join, but Jake took his leave and went over to the screen watching the soccer match for a few minutes. The last time he had kicked a ball around had been with Si, Alan, Jeff and some other Marines from his unit on the morning of the day he had received his marching orders for Venezuela. His lips compressed into a line for a moment then he turned away from the match. Most days the memory of his old self and abilities didn't bother him anymore, but today had been a lousy day at work. One of the detectives he had gotten to know over the last couple of months had been assaulted and raped in her home by at least two unknown assailants. They had left her for dead, but she had managed to attract attention and was now in hospital fighting for her life. It had caused a stir and consternation at the station. Jake wished that he could play a more active role in bringing in the perpetrators.

Through the crowd of people he noticed a man at the bar arguing with the woman sitting next to him. Jake watched for a moment as the argument grew more violent. The man grabbed the woman by the arm and slapped her hard in the face. She was trying to shrink away from him, but he held her in place, raising his hand again. The other people at the bar pretended not to notice.

Jake rolled forward until he was next to the bullying man. He turned his chair sideways and reached down, grabbing the leg of the bar stool and yanked it forward. The man came crashing down and Jake launched himself on top of him. He pinned the stunned man's right arm to the floor with his left and started punching him in the face. People backed away. The woman was crying.

"You fucking asshole. I'll show you what it's like to be slapped around like that." Jake spat the words into the man's face while he carried on punching. The man had gotten his free arm between his face and Jake, trying to ward off the blows. The bouncer, a recent addition to the bar, came running. He grabbed Jake around the chest from behind, pinning Jake's arms.

"What the fuck? Get off me. Let me go." Jake shouted at the bouncer, but to no avail. He hauled Jake backwards, away from the man and however much Jake struggled to free himself he couldn't get an angle on the bouncer with his arms pinned to his sides. The bouncer dragged him toward the rear fire door and simply pushed against the emergency release bar and backward through the door, hurtling Jake into the alley behind. Jake landed on his back and the impact shot a piercing jolt of pain up his spine.

"Fuck." He shouted. The door opened again and his wheelchair came crashing down on him. Jake just managed to deflect it and it bounced across the alley landing somewhere behind him. Jake struggled to push himself up on his elbow and shouted, "I hope you realize you've just lost a customer." He fell back with his arms extended. "Candy ass bitch." He stared up at the city above. A train suspended from a monorail track roared through the alley above him and it started to rain, drenching Jake's clothes; the pain in his back too intense to move. "If it ain't rainin' we ain't trainin'." Jake shouted up at the sky, imitating one of his drill instructors' jaunty tone. As he lay there, waiting for the pain to subside, he noticed two men approaching him. They were nondescript in the way of plainclothes officers or agents, but wearing matching suits and trench coats.

"Are you Jake Sully?" One of the suits asked. He was carrying a small handheld device.

"Step off. You're ruining my good mood."

"It's about your brother."

"What about my brother and who are you?" Jake still didn't move.

"Your brother is dead."

"Fuck!" Was Jake's only reaction. Then, after a moment he sighed and started looking around for his wheelchair. It was lying within reach above his head. He stretched for it and pulled it closer. The second agent stepped around Jake to help him, but Jake stopped him. "Don't. I got this." He righted the wheelchair then pulled himself into it, wincing. When he was sitting properly again, he said, "were is he?"

"Princeton ME. We'll take you there."

"You haven't explained yet who you two suits are."

"We are with RDA. Colleagues of your late brother so to speak." One of the men showed Jake a company ID. His name was Ronald Porter.

"I want to talk to the ME office first before I go anywhere with you."

"Sure. Suspicious by nature?"

"No, by profession." Jake pulled his phone from a pocket of his cargo pants, opened the directory service and connected to the medical examiner's office in Princeton. He spoke quietly on the phone for a while, then closed the link and looked up at the two men. "Let's go."

"Hi JJ." Jake had just arrived back from his trip to Princeton and it was late, but not too late to call JJ.

"Hey Jake, what's up to be calling this late?"

"I've got some bad news and some not so bad news."

JJ was sitting in his recliner in the den. "Hang on Jake, Si and Alan are here as well. We're watching the soccer world cup. Can they come on?" Si came into view, then Alan.

"Sure. Hi Si, hi Al."

"Hi Jake." They said in a chorus.

"So what's the bad news?" JJ inquired.

"The bad news is that Tom's dead. He was shot during a hold-up."

"I'm really sorry Jake." A pained look appeared on JJ's face and Si rubbed a hand over his. JJ continued. "How are you handling it?"

Jake shrugged his shoulders. "I seem to have become somewhat immune to deaths in the family, but don't worry, I'm not dissociative."

"And now? Are you coming back to San Diego?"

"No. That's the not so bad news." Jake said matter-of-factly. "RDA has offered me his gig. I have decided to accept their offer. I'm going to Pandora instead."

"Wow. Now that's unexpected."

"Yeah, I know. The whole thing was unexpected for me, too. This all happened today. I'm sorry, guys. I was looking forward to seeing you again, but I won't have time. I have to sort out my stuff here and then I have to be in New Mexico by Sunday at the latest. On Monday we are being shuttled into orbit to the ISV Venture Star. Then I get put into cryo and on Tuesday we are breaking orbit for Alpha Centauri."

"Let me know if there's anything you need me to do." JJ offered.

"I will if I run out of time."

"Well, Jake your dream has come true after all."

"Yes, I know, but I'll think about the philosophical implications later. Now is not the right time."

"Will you be doing Tom's full tour?" Si asked.

"Yes. Seventeen and a half years, eleven and a half of which I'll be asleep. So technically when I get back I'll only be thirty six whereas JJ will be retired." Jake grinned sheepishly.

"Are you happy?"

The grin disappeared. "Hmm—difficult question. I'm happy about the opportunity, but I'm not happy that Tom had to die for it—though we never really got over our personal differences."

"So what will you be doing on Pandora?" Alan inquired.

"To be honest, I have no idea. I haven't got the faintest clue what Tom was supposed to be doing there. The only thing I know is that I am taking over Tom's avatar. I don't know what that means exactly, but from what they tell me it's like experiencing the environment through another body as if you are actually there. So here are the two good reasons why I really want to do this—first, my avatar can walk and second, I'll earn a lot. Maybe not enough to pay for the whole four years of treatment once I'm back, but modest improvement is better than none."

"That does sound like a good gig to me." JJ agreed. "But let's talk again before you ship out. Maybe I can meet you in Las Cruzes on Sunday."

"Let me find out more about the logistics first. I'll call you when I know if that'll work."

"Sure. Let's chat soon."

"Yeah, bye guys." Jake closed the feed. He sighed. His back still hurt like a bitch. He pulled the medical kit bag out from under the cot where he had kept it lately, moved across and leaned against the wall. He pulled out an injector and stabbed it into his upper arm. Then he turned off the sound of the TV and just sat there in silence with his eyes closed, waiting for the medication to push back against the pain. Through his closed eyelids he observed the changing light intensity of the TV screen. He rubbed his hands over his face then he pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes to shut out the light completely. His entire family was dead—wiped out; his parents, his wife and child and now his brother. He examined himself for feelings of grief and guilt, but there weren't any. Instead he felt an odd sense of exhilaration, like being given a new lease on life. It seemed only right to leave this unforgiving planet behind, for a while at least, to travel more than four light years out into space and explore a new world.

A realization struck him. A realization that all of a sudden put the question he had struggled with for so long into perspective; the question: '_Why me?'_

To go to Pandora had been his biggest childhood wish. Partly the reason why he had joined the Marine Corps, since he knew that RDA recruited retired soldiers as security staff. It had been an option he had considered, but that possible future had been crushed with his spine. Since that fateful day he had believed that he would never get to see this alien world of amazing beauty and danger with his own eyes.

But now he understood. If he had never broken his back, if he had never become paralyzed, he wouldn't have gone. He would have married Emily when they both weren't ready, when neither of them would have understood what they were getting themselves into. They would have had children and the responsibility would have tied him down. The value system that the Marine Corps had drilled into him would have made him stay put, to take responsibility for his family, to live an ordinary life.

All of a sudden it was so clear, like the first rays of light on a crisp winter morning throwing the landscape into stark, but beautiful relief: _Everything is as it should be_.

He realized that for everything that had happened, for all the immense pain and hardship he had been through, there was a reason. When he opened himself up to that thought and let his intuition guide him, he felt a sense of wonder, of wholeness and of lightness; it was like the feeling he felt when he was flying. He didn't know what his destiny was going to be, but one thing he suddenly knew with unshakable certainty—his destiny was waiting for him on Pandora.


End file.
